Love On Location: A Christian Romance Collection a2r

Also by Suzanne D. Williams

A Man Through Time Talk Like a Pirate The British are Coming

Angst Fade To Black Fade To Gray

Barrow Bros. Brides She Loves Me In The Spring (The Non-Honeymoon) She Loves Me In The Summer (Mrs. Someone) She Loves Me In The Fall (The Neighbor) She Loves Me In The Winter (Just Friends)

Best-Dressed Series Suit Painted Bride

Billionaire Boys Club Atlas Steele Wolfe Cristobel Robin Bryon Chaz

Cowboys of the Double R God Bless Texas Hot In Texas Tough As Texas Give Me Texas Heart Of Texas Welcome To Texas

Cyborg Romance 653: Rise Of The Sun 852: Spawn

Fabulous Felicia Ariel Zoia

Grace & Cowboys A Taste Of Dixie Poetry & Life To Fall In Love

Missing Andrew (A Memorial Day Story) Tad & Beth

Paranormal Romance Wings Wings2

Renegade Brides The Gunslinger

Rodeo Girl Series Kickin' Hearts Racin' Hearts

Superhuman The Underground The League The Coalition The Family The Child

The Coralee Chronicles The Girl In The Pink Bikini The Bride Wore Blue Sneakers Mommy Wears A Green T-Shirt

The Florida Irish Love & Redemption Life & Deliverance Faith & Forgiveness Maire's Song

Michael's Story Nate's Healing Chase's Wife

The Italian Series Flight Risk Italian With A Side Of Pasta Something Italian Say It With Flowers Play It For Me

The Resurrectionists Graverobber

Time-Travel Romance For Eternity Crossing Eternity

Western Women Series Heaven & Earth Heaven & Hell

Standalone Me & Timothy Cooper Of All the Ways He Loves Me I Kissed the Boy Next Door The Best Week Of My Life Ichabod & Penelope New ~ Jersey All About Romeo A Miracle For Mari A Kiss in September Love in Lilac Give Me Chocolate (And Jordan) She Loves Me Anyway Phenomenal Pick Me Pink That Love Your Neighbor Thing Take My Breath Away Eight To One Blushed

Conversations With God The Other Player What A Woman Needs The Quarter Glass Fearless Tattooed Indian Summer Cops & Robbers It Don't Rain In Texas Love Dangerously Not Done Living For Tonight The Romance Of Summer: Young Adult Romance Collection The Way To A Man's Heart Wings, The Set Love & Justice: Romantic Suspense Collection The Coralee Chronicles: The Girl In The Pink Bikini Series A Little Christmas Magic (The Cowboy & The Librarian) The Romance of Youth Mega Collection A Mail-Order Bride For Christmas

Just Between Us: Student-Teacher Romance The Christmas Pie: An Atlas Bellamy Short Story A Good Life: A Daily Walk in God's Presence The ionate Church: Being the Church in an Age of Offense Fabulous: Young Adult Romance Series A Christmas Blessing: A Best Friend's Widow Romance Baptized Cowboys Of The Double R (Complete Series) How The West Loved (Historical Romance Collection) He Was A Soldier Cowboys, Billionaires, and other Christmas Fantasies: A Christian Romance Collection A Christmas Boyfriend Romance Collection Love on Location: A Christian Romance Collection

Watch for more at Suzanne D. Williams’s site.

SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

© 2020 LOVE ON LOCATION: A Christian Romance Collection by Suzanne D. Williams www.feelgoodromance.com www.suzannedwilliams.com All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental. *These stories are available in paperback under their individual titles.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Take Me Away Love After Snowfall Soaped Love & Roses Eden About the Author

TAKE ME AWAY

From the back cover: When Celia Boyle asked Gator Lawrence to take her on vacation, she had no idea that such a simple request would become so incredibly complicated. All she wanted was seven blissful days of beach sand, ocean waves, and tropical sun. But now, her sister’s sudden visit, her own misspoken statement, and a threat by Gator’s dad to send him out of town, jeopardizes everything. Unless, they take things in their own hands and go anyway. Yet sometimes life has a lesson to share that only experience can teach, and it could be what they’re both looking for has been with them all along.

CHAPTER 1 “You’d think there’d be some decency left in this world.” You’d think, but two hours at the DMV seemed to contradict that. Patience already thin in the overcrowded room, the odor of so many bodies pressed together further sapped the waiting customers’ good humor, including the older gentleman who’d spoken. Then, there was the woman across from him, openly nursing a child of, at least, a year old. “You reckon she’s one of them that keep that up ’til the kid’s three?” asked someone else, two seats down. A third speaker gave an explosive snort. “She does and those’ll look more like dried prunes than apricots.” The woman who’d spoken grasped her young son and made him face backward. A ripple of laughter whisked over the disparate group. “Number one-twelve,” a uniformed clerk called from behind the long counter. He pushed to his feet, grateful to be away from the others, and his empty seat was immediately consumed by one of seven people standing around the room. The chatter shifted. The DMV clerk gazed back over the rim of her black eyeglasses, her voice monotone. “Look in there, sir, and read the highlighted letters.” He obeyed, pressing against an aged optical viewer. “E, S, R, O, and the last one’s a three.” Without comment on his accuracy, she slid a form beneath his nose. “Sign at the bottom. That’ll be seventy-five dollars.” “Seventy-five?” Her brows drew tight, and her gaze took on an angry snap. “Cash, credit, or

debit?” He sighed, scrawled his signature, and handed her his card. After processing, she waved him to the next station. This clerk looked even more bored if that was possible. Her arms stiff, one hand on the photo machine, she appeared to speak without much moving her lips. “Look at the green dot on the wall.” The flash popped, before he could locate what she’d described, and he was ushered, walking blindly, toward a second waiting area. Multicolored spots swirled in his vision as he searched for a seat. “I hate this place.” He turned toward the woman’s voice, her face gradually clearing in his view. She was his age, give or take a year, and attractive, chestnut-brown hair woven in a long braid, her large blue eyes framed by soft, black lashes. “I failed my first three driving tests here. Three,” she said, holding up an equal number of fingers. “On my third try, the officer was so mean, I left, bawling my eyes out.” Unsure what to say, he didn’t respond at all. He’d ed his with flying colors. Although, he agreed, the officer hadn’t been the friendliest person. “Celia Boyle,” she said. “Gator Lawrence.” His eyes brightened. “Gator? For real?” He smiled. He’d heard the jokes, off and on, his whole life and, for the most part, didn’t mind them. “For real.” She tilted her gaze. “So, how’d it work? There you were, newborn, your mom and dad incredibly proud, and she looks at you and says, ‘He looks like a Gator.’” Gator laughed beneath his breath. “Something like that.”

Celia wriggled in her seat. “I suppose you drive a big truck, have a gun rack, and go hunting on the weekends.” She made arm gestures as she spoke, mimicking holding a steering wheel then a rifle. “Yep.” He reclined, his neck propped on the back of the seat. “Then, you’ll need a good woman to sit on the hood,” Celia continued. “I think I can dig up something short and tight that’ll work.” He turned his gaze. Her in something short and tight was a mental image it’d take a while to shake. “I reckon. Should we set this up?” He was teasing, but her expression said she heard differently. “If I give you my number, you’ll actually call?” He pulled himself upright. She was serious? “Mr. Lawrence, your license,” the clerk said, “and Miss Boyle, yours as well.” They rose in tandem, side-by-side claiming their respective licenses, and exited the building together. The January chill rose goosepimples on his arms, despite the glaring sunshine. “You really drive a truck?” He jerked his chin toward the diesel parked in the center of the lot. “You really giving me your number?” Why would she? Then again, why did it matter to him? Because, for a reason he didn’t understand, it did. She moistened her lips. “If you’ll promise to take me away from all this. Somewhere with warm beach sand, blue ocean waves . . . me in a bikini.” Gator raised his eyebrows. Another unforgettable image. “I think that can be arranged.”

“What’s with all the travel brochures?” Gator sifted through the selection in front of him, pulled one out of the stack, and unfolded it. Turquoise waters edged by cream-colored beach stretched to the empty horizon. In another photo, a patch of feathery-leaved palms danced against the blue sky. Bora Bora, read the brochure. “I’m deciding where to take my girlfriend.” His younger brother, Buck, released a loud breath. “Your girlfriend? You don’t have a girlfriend.” “Do too. Met her today at the DMV and promised to go somewhere warm.” Buck’s knuckles rapped sharply on his skull, and he released the brochure, catching his brother’s hand midway up, and twisting it left. “Ow. I forget you’re fast,” Buck returned. “You forget a lot of things, like I’m older and smarter, and now, also apparently cuter. Because I have a girlfriend, and I’m taking a trip.” Gator released his brother’s hand and fell back in his chair. Buck eyed him, lips pursed, face crinkled. “You’re not joshin’?” Gator didn’t respond but unfolded another brochure. He stabbed it with a blunt fingernail. “There. Right on that square of earth I will kiss the daylights out of her.” “You do know Dad’s going to kill you before you get on the plane?” Gator grinned. “He won’t know.” Buck took a seat at the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you figure that? You can’t just take off and not ask for vacation time first. He depends on you.” “Correction. He depends on us.” Gator made a motion between them. “You just got promoted.”

Buck shook his head and snorted. “This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. I don’t believe you met any girl today or that you’re taking her on a trip or that you’re going to give me your job.” Gator released the brochure, and it fluttered onto the table top. “No?” “No.” Gator reached for his phone and brought up a photo. Spinning it around, he held it in front of his brother’s face. “Tell me what’s in the background.” Buck’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “The DMV.” “Correct. And that beautiful girl standing in front of the doors is Celia Boyle, who asked me to take her away from here, and I promised to do it.” “You’re nuts.” Gator revolved the phone and stared down at the screen, absentmindedly tracing the girl’s outline. “Maybe so, but I have a feeling that this is exactly what I need, and no matter what it costs me, I’m going ahead with it.” His screen went dark, and he returned his gaze to the brochures. Buck scooped up the topmost paper and raised it in front of Gator’s face. “I want to know where you’re going to sleep. One room or two?” Gator snatched the brochure back, leaving his brother’s hands aloft. “Two. What kind of a person do you think I am?” Buck’s lips twisted into a crooked smile. “Once you get alone with her, a desperate one.” Gator made an unhappy face. “’Desperate’ has never been a word I’ve used to describe myself, and I’m not going to start now. I what Mom taught us.” Buck gave a sharp laugh. “You forgot the part about not taking a girl you just met on a vacation . . . alone.”

“If you’re so concerned, then find you one and come with us.” Though that would ruin everything. Buck’s idea of a girlfriend would be a sixfoot-two Neanderthal who ate as much as he did. It’d be crowded and uncomfortable. Not what he wanted of this trip at all. “Oh, that’s a super idea,” Buck replied. “Then who’s going to do your job while you’re gone? No, thanks. I value my head attached to my shoulders.” Gator shrugged. “Your choice. But you that when you get my postcard.”

Celia dropped the used comb in the jar of blue disinfectant and spun the chair toward the girl standing just outside the reach of the foot rest. “Next victim.” The girl laughed and settled in, folding her hands in her lap. Celia reached for a pink plastic cape, swinging it in a wide arc, and fastened it behind the girl’s neck. “How is Miss Ann today?” she asked, cheerfully. “I’m good. Thanks. But you can drop the Miss. The preschoolers call me that, not the adults.” Celia smiled and rearranged the girl’s hair down her back. “The usual?” she asked. Ann nodded, and Celia reached for her scissors and a fresh comb, pumping the foot pedal to raise the chair a few inches. “Kenny asked about you yesterday,” Ann said. Celia blew out a puff of air and snapped the scissors closed just over Ann’s head. “I’m likely to shear your hair off if you mention him again.” Ann wrinkled her nose and laughed. “Knew you’d be upset, so I told him you hated his guts.” “Did he believe you?” she asked, hopeful. Moistening the girl’s hair with a spritzer, Celia tugged a section outward and snipped the ends. “I’m not sure. He’s pigheaded.” Pigheaded didn’t begin to describe that buffoon. Her mood souring, Celia released the thought. He wasn’t worth the effort. “Won’t matter what he thinks anyway a month from now.” Ann stared back at her in the mirror. “Why? What happens a month from now?” Celia didn’t respond right off, for concentrating on her work, and soon, five minutes had ed. She paused then, the scissors hooked in her right hand. “I’m getting out of this town, going on a tropical vacation.”

Ann clapped her hands and bounced, childlike, in the chair. “That sounds lovely. Can I tag along?” Separating another section of hair, Celia brushed it out straight. “Absolutely not. I’m going with a man.” Sparks lit in Ann’s eyes. “Who? I didn’t know you were dating.” Celia took her time to answer because this was, by far, the craziest thing she’d ever done. Crazier still since the guy in question had agreed to it. She would, of course, split the cost with him, though she’d left the location and hotel up to his choice. Bending her client’s head forward, she drew another section of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “His name is Gator.” “Gator?” the girl’s question emerged muffled, her mouth being aimed toward her chest. “Buff, country type with a big truck and a pair of eyes that would make girls swoon.” It was his eyes that had snagged her. He’d been working to see past the flash that’d gone off in his face and so had given her a good glimpse. A perfect hazel brown with green flecks. But more than that, she saw kindness there. “Never figured you for country boys.” She never had either, nor had she thought she’d do something so off the wall as this. But the very idea of not being in this hole of a town, freezing her backside off, eliminated her qualms. She wanted an escape too badly. “I simply never met the right one. But can’t you picture it? Me in a swimsuit, miles of nothing but sun and surf, and a hot guy at my side.” Never mind, she’d only just met him, that she had no idea if they had anything in common, or if he expected more out of this than holding her hand. She’d only live once and would not, under any circumstance, back out. Celia snipped a stray end that had escaped her scissors and flicked it away.

“I can picture it,” Ann said, “and when you get back, I want lots of proof.” Celia smiled to herself and combed the girl’s bangs. She’d have proof, though if she bothered to come back here was a question she couldn’t answer. No one here cared if she went or stayed, and only a few would ask what happened if she disappeared for good. Which right now – visions of paradise dancing in her head – didn’t sound all that awful.

Celia tossed her keys on the kitchen counter, and they skated off the opposite side, landing in the floor with a clatter. “Bother.” She left them there, in favor of retrieving an ice cream bar, and took a seat, afterward, on the nearest stool. Her feet hurt, but standing up at the beauty salon all day always did that. Why couldn’t she have become a secretary of some sort? A job that required sitting. She knew the answer. She hated bookwork. Hated the thought of kowtowing to some boss in a tight suit and expensive shoes, who made more money than her. She was much better at working with her hands – craft projects, small repairs around the house, hair styling. She peeled the wrapper and took a bite, the chocolate coating melting on her tongue. One foot tucked beneath her, the other swung outward, her toe tapping the side of the island. Truth was she liked her job. She liked seeing people, talking to people. It was just, somedays, and a lot more lately, her daydreams of getting away shone brighter. Her cell phone rang. Startled, a blob of chocolate coating dripped from her lip onto the counter. Scooping it up on one finger, she mashed the speaker with another and shouted into the phone. “Yeah?” She sucked the coating from her nail. When no answer came, she repeated her greeting. “Hello?” “Celia? It’s Gator.” Her heart skipped a beat, and she inserted the remainder of the ice cream bar in her mouth at once. Dashing over to the sink, she swallowed the lump and splashed water on her lips. “I’m here,” she yelled toward the phone. “You sound funny.”

A nervous giggle escaped. “You caught me. I was eating dessert before supper.” “Oh, well, if that’s all . . . Hey, I wanted to ask you . . .” He halted, his sentence unfinished, and she froze in place. Wanted to ask her what? Cold sweat popped on her brow. He’d changed his mind. He’d gone home, thought it over, and decided it was a huge mistake; she was some head case, and he’d do best to avoid the whole thing. She should have known that would happen. After all, this was insane, them going off together. “You there?” Gator asked. Her throat dry, Celia coughed, curling one fist to her mouth. “Yeah.” “Listen, I can’t decide if we should rent a cottage or stay in a hotel. The cottages look nice, but that’s maybe too close together, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, so . . .” “Y-you’re not backing out?” she interrupted. He paused, for a moment. “No. You thought I was?” “I . . . I guess I did. Yeah . . . Yes, I did. Not that I wanted you to because I didn’t. I’m all in if you’re all in.” His gentle, baritone laugh seemed to remove all the tension. “I’m all in,” he said. “But since we don’t know each other, I thought it best to ask what you’d prefer.” “Oh.” Relief rushed through her. “So? Which sounds better?” Celia opened the fridge and removed a half-full bottle of water, taking a long swig. She leaned one palm on the counter. “If we knew each other, if you were doing this for a girl you were madly in love with, what would you choose?”

“The cottage,” he replied. “Then that’s what I want. I want seven days of complete fantasy that we’re two people destined to be together and nothing in the world can come between us.” He coughed. “That’s romantic. And sweet.” And part of her longstanding daydream. She’d gone through her teens and into her twenties planning her future. She’d designed the perfect man and decided how he’d make her feel. Then one day she’d awakened to realize it hadn’t happened. That didn’t stop the idea from playing in her head or her doing something crazy like this to fulfill it. A knock at the door shifted her thoughts. Her phone in one hand, she wandered from the kitchen, through the living room and into the foyer. Without looking in the peep hole, she pulled the door inward, and, seeing her visitor, her voice broke. “Marianne . . . I . . . I wasn’t expecting you.” She usually called first. She hadn’t called, which raised questions. It also interrupted her plans. If her older sister was here, then she intended to stay for a while. She never came without hanging around for a couple weeks. But Marianne would make things so awkward with Gator and their vacation planning. “You’re busy. I’ll let you go.” Gator’s masculine voice came from the speaker. Marianne’s gaze shifted. “Who’s that?” Celia forced confidence into her tone. “That? That’s . . .” And the words fell out before she could stop them. “It’s Gator, my fiancé.”

CHAPTER 2 Gator pulled the phone from his ear, his eyes widening. Fiancé? What made her say that? A protest rose on his tongue, but he held it back, considering things instead. Whoever she was talking to had made her nervous. Just as his brother didn’t understand their plans, this person probably wouldn’t either, so she’d lied. After all, she hadn’t cancelled the trip, and if anything, her willingness to cover it up reaffirmed how important it was. “You’re engaged?” Celia’s visitor asked. “It’s a secret. Or it was. Surprise!” He smiled to himself, sobering a second later. “You can’t keep that a secret. I didn’t know you were dating, much less, that you were serious about anyone. Who is he? Where’d you meet?” Uneasy about the woman’s tone, Gator took a seat, the concrete of his front stoop warming his backside. Who was this person that it mattered to her? “Why don’t you ask him?” Celia replied. “Sweetheart?” Her voice smoothed, and Gator’s discomfort grew. “Yeah?” “My sister, Marianne, is here, and she wants to know about you.” He cleared his throat. Her sister. And he’d bet, older sister. “Here, talk to him yourself.” He chose his words carefully. “Gator Lawrence, ma’am. I’m a contractor, family business.” Something they hadn’t had time to discuss. She didn’t know what he did, and he could say the same about her. “Family business,” Marianne repeated. “You’re a local boy then?” Gator scrubbed one hand across the top of his head. “With all due respect, I’m

not a boy. I’m twenty-five. I have my own place with my own bills to pay.” “You’re responsible,” she returned. “Gator, is it?” Gator dropped his hand to his neck, massaging the kink that’d begun to form. “Yes, ma’am.” “I’m here for a while. I hope we can meet in person.” Here for a while? How long was that? The questions in the forefront of his mind, still, Gator said nothing. Until he could talk to Celia without her sister around, there was no point in panicking. Hopefully, she’d come and go, and they could take their trip without any trouble. “I’m sure we can. I’ll let Celia arrange it.” Celia returned to the phone. The background noises vanished. “There, no more speaker phone,” she said. “How ’bout I call you later, and we finish our chat?” “Sounds good . . . and, Celia? No harm done.” She laughed softly. “Goodbye, handsome.” Gator set his phone down and pinched the sides of his head. All was not lost. They had only to wait this out and then could continue as before. Meanwhile, he’d play the part and laugh about it later. At least, Buck wasn’t here to pick on him over the mix up. Because the last thing he needed was for that nosebleed to find out. He’d drag him to the altar just to make him feel stupid. Not that he was against marriage. Not that Celia wasn’t pretty enough. Not that his gut feeling wasn’t driving him into this, deeper and deeper.

“So, what brings you by? You didn’t call to say you were coming.” Like her sister lived down the street and had simply popped in for a casual visit when, in fact, she lived more than a thousand miles away. Marianne’s eyes still held a great deal of suspicion. She didn’t quite believe her, and based on incidents in their childhood, that was not too surprising. Just the same, Celia kept up the pretense. “I didn’t know I was,” her sister replied. “I’ve been thinking on it but couldn’t get the time off. Then, at the last minute, I did, so I packed up and caught a flight. I knew you’d be around.” Of course. Good ol’ dependable, Celia. Always here, always available. Celia suppressed a frown. “Well, I’m glad to see you. You know that. But I’ve been so busy . . .” “Where’d you meet him?” Celia’s insides twisted at her sister’s blunt question. It was best to stick close to the truth. Tell too many lies and all of this would fall apart. “At the DMV. I went to have my license renewed, and we struck up a conversation.” Never mind that happened this week. Marianne wouldn’t know. Hopefully. “He was cute, and we hit it off. Eventually, he popped the question.” She started, a new thought smacking her square between the eyes. An engagement ring. She wasn’t wearing one, and if Marianne noticed, she’d better have a good excuse. Or a ring. She had that ugly thing Kenny gave her when they were dating. He hadn’t asked for it back, which was surprising. Marianne may have seen it before, though. There was also the ring their mom had gotten her when she turned sixteen, but she’d definitely know that one. She could always say her ring was being resized —it’d always been loose, and she’d finally gotten around to it. That’d give her time to produce a real one.

Mashing her left hand deeper into the couch cushion, she hid her bare finger from view. “When’s the wedding?” Marianne asked. “You were going to invite me?” Celia stuck her lip out in a pout. “Of course. It’s just we’ve talked but haven’t set a date. I wanted to, at least, know when. But I reasoned, why rush? He’s busy working, and I have the salon. The most we’ve agreed on is our honeymoon. We want to do something tropical. That’s actually why he called.” Celia exhaled. Perfect. If anything about the trip came up, now it wouldn’t seem out of place. Proud of herself, she relaxed, leaning back on the couch. “Enough about me. You said you weren’t coming at first. What changed your mind?” “I’m not sure, but it seemed like I needed to be here right now.” Marianne glanced away. When she looked at her again, she smiled. But not her friendly smile, nor her happy one, more the one she wore when she turned into their mother. “I’m thinking, given your engagement, I was right.” Celia’s unrest returned. Why had she opened her big mouth? She could have said he was her boyfriend, even a neighbor or a good friend. But, no, she had to make this that much more difficult. Now, she was engaged, which meant they’d have to know a lot more about each other than they did, have to act like they spent time together, which they hadn’t. They’d have to show feelings for one another. Gator Lawrence was an amazing man so far. Handsome. And daring to take her on this trip. But when all was said and done, she didn’t know anything about him, except he drove a really big truck. Celia fashioned yet another false smile. “I don’t know why you’d say that,” she replied. “Not like we’re going to run off together without warning.”

Celia reclined in bed, the pillow corners puffing around her face. The ache of all that’d happened seemed to spread down her spine and settle in her feet. She wriggled her toes and wished for relief. “Sorry about earlier. I apologize for my big mouth.” And it’d taken all evening to find time alone where she could call him to say it without Marianne listening in. She loved her sister, but she’d made things difficult. “Forget it,” Gator replied. “No, seriously. I’ve been thinking, and if I’d kept my trap shut . . . who we are and what we’re doing isn’t any of Marianne’s business. Then, for me to put you on the spot like that . . . I should have done better.” “I figured it out once you put her on the phone,” he replied. “She’s older than you, huh?” Celia blew out a breath. “Older and wiser.” “Why would you say that?” he asked. “You don’t strike me as dumb.” She sighed. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. But if that’s true, then why do I feel so pushed to get away? It’s like . . . like I have to go somewhere or I’ll lose my mind.” He didn’t speak for a moment, then his soft country twang hummed in her ear. “I like you,” he said. Three words that somehow removed all the doubts banging around in her head. She rolled onto her side, the phone balanced in her hand. “And I like you,” she returned. “Isn’t that ... something? How can we like each other when we just met?” “I guess sometimes people click.” People clicked. They clicked. Talking to him was as easy as breathing or

blinking or falling asleep. “I dated a guy a year ago,” she said. “Things went bad quick, and I broke it off.” “You don’t have to confess to me.” “No, but you should know since . . . since we’re . . .” She hiccupped. “Oh, I always do this when I’m nervous.” Gator chuckled softly. “You don’t have to be nervous around me, Celia. Why don’t we stop saying we’ve just met and decide that, as of right now, we’re friends?” She hiccupped. And giggled. “Okay. I guess we should be since . . .” Hiccup. “We’re engaged.” Engaged. Tears pushed at her eyes. “Oh . . . why did I say that? Marianne’s going to want to meet you, and now, we have to give her details. I told her we met at the DMV, but not that it was this week. I said we’d talked about our honeymoon on an island somewhere. But that isn’t enough information for her . . .” Her tears leaked out, her crying broken by her persistent hiccups. “Celia.” Sucking in her breath, she attempted to pull herself together. Crying wasn’t helping. If anything, she gave him a bad impression. She didn’t want him to think she was weak or whiny. “Any girl I’m engaged to is pretty special,” he said. A weak smile rose, her spirits lifting. She dabbed at the damp patches beneath her eyes. “Why is it no one’s snapped you up?” He laughed, heartier. “I reckon no one’s asked me to take her away from here before ... no one I’d want to go with.” “Do you want to go?”

“More than anything. So, no more crying. What you see is what you get with me. Big truck, gun rack, huntin’ dog and all.” Celia’s smile strengthened. “Tell me more. What’s the name of your dog?”

Snapping the door to his truck shut behind him, Gator sauntered toward the job site, his boots sinking deep into the mucky soil. Tiny clods kicked up from his heels scattered into the trampled grass. “Good morning, son.” His father eyed him, one hand on his hip. “Sleep well?” Gator yawned in response. “Or not sleep much?” his dad asked, reframing his question. “I slept.” From about two a.m. on. Celia Boyle was quite the conversationalist, only stopping when her cell phone battery died. He hadn’t realized how long the conversation was until then. Talking to her was effortless, as if they’d known each other forever. “Maybe tonight try harder,” his dad replied. Gator nodded and glanced around the site. “Where’s Buck?” His dad’s expression changed from a pleasant one to something more concerned. “He’s here. My question is, why?” Gator scanned the crew moving in and out amongst the half-finished building. “Because I asked him to. He and I had a talk.” He hadn’t planned on telling his dad about his brother’s new job so soon in the day, but maybe, it was best. This way it’d be out in the open, and he could worry less about hiding his plans with Celia. “I’m going to give him more responsibility. I think he’s ready for it.” His dad’s concern was replaced by stout disbelief, and Gator understood why. He and Buck had been at odds since they were toddlers, so for him to give his brother anything he valued was far out of the ordinary. “We need to bury the hatchet,” Gator continued. “Some days, I feel like there’s just too much going on at once, and if Buck were here and knew what to do, then he could take care of some of it. You know, that’s what you’ve wanted.”

His dad’s stiff stance relaxed somewhat, his hands falling loose at his sides. “It is, but I’m surprised you’re giving in. No special reason?” A teasing smile rose on his dad’s face. Gator looked him in the eye and refused to blink. “No. Why would you ask that?” “A father’s hope, I guess. Some days it feels like there’s too many men in the family.” Gator said nothing, and his dad’s words dispersed into the morning sky. A short time later, Buck appeared, and the work took over. Unconscious of the time, Gator poured his energy into it, not slacking until noon. He walked off from the others, taking a seat on a stack of lumber inside the partially-erected concrete walls. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples. He swiped them away with the back of his hand. His cell phone rang, and seeing the number, he glanced around for listening ears. Celia. He smiled. “Hey. You didn’t get enough of me?” “Is it silly to call?” He leaned back against the wall, the blocks cool against his spine. “No sillier than me wishing you would.” Not strictly true, though, he’d thought about her a lot. “That’s sweet. I confess I have a double motive,” she said. “Besides hearing your voice, my sister insists on cooking supper Friday night and says I’m to invite you. Only, it’s less of an invite and more of a demand. I’m sorry to do this to you but can’t see my way around it.” His gut made a slight twist. Pulling in a breath, he released his worries. There was time enough to figure that out later. “Whatever we have to do,” he replied. “You’ll have to give me your address.” “Right. I’ll text it to you.” She paused. “I guess you’re having lunch?”

“I would, but my hour’s short today.” She snorted. “Men. You’re all the same. You skip a meal when you work then want five plates for dinner. If it were up to me, I’d pack you something every day and make sure you ate it.” He chuckled. “I suppose you, country boys, like chicken wings and cold beer.” He closed his eyes, a smile fixed on his lips. “Never was much for beer. I’m just grateful you didn’t say possum and wild hog.” “I’m glad about the beer, and the possum as well,” she said. A dark shadow fell over him, and he reopened his eyes, staring into his brother’s amused face. “I’d better go,” Gator said. “You know, find me something to eat.” “Okay. You’ll call me later?” “Definitely.” The call ended, Gator poked his phone into his pocket. He ignored his brother and headed for the open doorway. But a few steps in, Buck grasped his arm and pulled him up short. “Was that the little woman? Sounds like you’re getting attached.” Gator pulled himself free. “If I am, it’s my business.” He surged forward. Buck skipped to catch up. “How much harder is it going to be, you and her on some beach, if you start to feel that way?” “We’re friends,” Gator said. “I like her. It’s as simple as that. Don’t go writing my future. Who made you the moral police anyway?” Gator pushed through the door-less entrance. Buck followed. “Someone’s got to. You’re not thinking this out.” Gator whirled. “All I’ve done is think! What if I met ‘the one’ yesterday? What if this vacation is everything I need? What if we have a great time and fall in

love?” Buck’s eyes sparkled, and Gator muffled a curse. He’d fallen right into his brother’s trap. He’d wanted to upset him, and it’d worked. But, at the same time, what if what he’d asked was true? “What if I want to fall in love?” he added. “What if I want to have what Mom and Dad did?” Thirty-two beautiful years before she’d died, and her pictures still on the walls, and their dad’s heart still in her hands. Seemed like a good thing to him, and not something to be embarrassed about. Buck shuffled his feet, his manner cooling. “I’m only saying things could go wrong, and you should be careful,” he finished, halfhearted. “Or I could throw caution to the wind and see where the ocean takes me.” It hit him then what this was all about. Buck was jealous. Jealous that of the two of them, he was the one willing to take a chance, the one with something . . . someone to look forward to. Gator turned away and headed for his truck, surprised, when he climbed in, to see Buck still tagging along. “You need something?” he asked, the door still open. Buck shook his head. “Then, I’ll be back in thirty. I’m going to go find me some chicken wings.”

CHAPTER 3 “I had a cat when I was eight. My sister named him Simon, and she used to go around the house singing, ‘Simple Simon was a pie man.’” Celia laughed at the memory, one hand at her throat. “Simon, huh? That’s more creative than ours,” Gator replied. She lowered her hand to her lap. “You had a cat?” “Two actually. Spot and Dot.” She giggled and his chuckles ed in. “Whose idea was that?” His voice smoothed. “Well, Mom said we could each name one ... me and Buck ... so I said Spot and he copied me.” “Tell me about your brother.” It was a simple question, but evidently the wrong one because Gator became strangely silent. Yet she didn’t retract it, her curiosity overriding her caution. “He’s fourteen months younger. Looks more like my dad.” He hesitated, his breath loud in the speaker. “We don’t get along.” Why was her question, but she held it in. Him itting that seemed big enough. “He knows about you and the trip. I guess that’s a surprise.” It was, and it was on the tip of her tongue, again, to ask why. He didn’t give her the chance. “He won’t tell anyone. I guess I knew that. I’ve kept a lot of his secrets, so I’m not all that worried.” “What about your dad? He’d be upset?” Gator made a slight grunt. “Probably more disappointed. In his mind, dating is

done over a long period of time ... you at your house, me at mine. A lot of dinners, going to church together, and holidays, of course. To him, vacations are strictly reserved for families. That said, we never went on them too often. Visits to my mom’s parents when I was small. She was an only child, so once they were gone we didn’t do that. Now, my mom’s gone, too, and so it’s all memories.” “Do you miss her?” she asked. He sighed. “A lot. What . . . what about yours?” Celia crawled from bed and paced over to the window, seating herself on the wide window ledge. Cool air rose from the glass. “She ed away when I was fifteen, so I went to live with Marianne. She was nineteen and at college. She dropped out, got a job, rented an apartment. I guess that’s why she mothers me so much. I never knew my dad. I think he ran off when I was born. Marianne knew him, but she won’t talk about him. I never ask.” “Of course.” The hiss of air blowing out the overhead vent, and the distant bark of a dog from somewhere outside took over the conversation for a while. Celia adjusted her seat, turning her back to the window. “I’m going to buy the tickets tomorrow,” Gator said. “I found a travel agent who says she’ll get us there.” She smiled. “Not telling me where, huh?” He made a breathy laugh. “Does it matter?” “No. Nothing matters but being there . . . with you.” She was taken aback by her own words, but she meant them. Who else, at the drop of a hat, would go through this much trouble to allow a complete stranger to fulfill a dream? Nobody. And it was risky. Yet as risky as this was, he’d proven to be a man of his word, and maybe that was the allure. He was trustworthy. “I’m blushing,” he said.

Celia pulled herself back into the conversation. “I wish I could see that. I wish ...” Taking a breath, she swallowed. “I wish I could see you.” “Tell you what,” he said. “Meet me for lunch tomorrow. If you don’t mind me being slightly grubby or eating fast food, I’ll show up at the Burger Place on Main Street at noon.” “I don’t mind at all,” she said. “I’ll be there.” “Then it’s a date.” She stared at his statement, eyes wide. “A date? I guess we should have one before we get married.” He chuckled. “I guess so.”

Gator unwrapped his burger and took a bite, surprised mid-chew by Celia’s appearance at the booth. Dropping her tray on the table, she slid in the bench opposite him, her eyes twinkling and face bright. “A man-sized meal,” she said, staring at his sandwich. He choked the bite down with a grin. “Well, someone told me I needed to eat lunch.” Capturing her drink, she took a sip. “She was smart.” He took another bite. She looked nice, her hair pulled back, a cream-colored blouse and thick, brown sweater setting off her fair complexion. The ring on her finger caught his eye. “I’m not dating a stupid girl,” he replied. Celia gave a silent laugh, lips parted, and his gaze shifted. “You, Gator Lawrence, are a sweet talker.” She waved a fry at him as she said this, and he leaned over the table and ate it from her fingers. Her cheeks pinked. He chewed slowly, then nodded at her hand. “A ring?” She plucked the gold band off. “I dug it up in my jewelry box. Marianne might notice I didn’t have one, and it seemed like a good idea.” “Well, isn’t this sweet?” Gator twisted his neck toward the new voice, and his gaze darkened at the sight of his brother. He’d had a hard-enough time getting away from him to come here. “Thought I’d find out exactly where you hopped off to so fast.” Celia’s expression was mixed, concern and worry lumped together. “Celia, meet my little brother, Buck,” Gator said, placing special emphasis on the word little.

Buck’s gaze sharpened. “Only in age.” He glanced toward Celia. “Mind if I sit?” He didn’t wait for an answer but pushed Gator over, sealing him in place. His elbows on the table, he tented his fingers. “So, tell me, Celia, do you usually take vacations with complete strangers?” Celia’s joy faded in an instant, the lines on her face growing long. Her fingers trembling, she curled them into fists. “That was uncalled for. Nor were you invited to this meal.” Gator glared at his brother. Buck jutted out his chin. “I think I have the right to ask. Since you’re not telling Dad, someone in the family ought to know who she is.” Gator shoved at him. “That’s enough. Go find . . .” Celia gave a squawk and, thrusting up from the booth, fled the restaurant. Gator’s heart squeezed, and his anger returned. Hauling back one fist, he brought it to within an inch of his brother’s jaw. “Get up.” Buck exited the booth, his face tight, and Gator, leaving his food on the table, trailed after her. She was leaning against her car, her arms over her chest. He approached slowly. “Hey. I’m sorry about that. He’s . . .” “You said you didn’t get along.” She interrupted him. Gator hushed, and their gazes locked. “No. We don’t.” She worked her mouth to the side, chewing on her cheek. “Then why did you tell him about the trip?” He exhaled. “He caught me looking at brochures, but that’s only part of it. I’m my dad’s right-hand man and can’t simply take off without someone filling my place. Buck’s the only person Dad will trust.” “But you don’t trust him, and he doesn’t trust me. And . . .” Gator tipped her face up with two fingers. “Enough of that. I trust you, and that’s

really all that matters.” “Is it?” she asked. “It seemed so simple at the time – me and you taking a vacation together. But now, it isn’t. He could make trouble unless I say the right things. Plus, my sister’s here, and I don’t know how long she’ll stay. You know what she said to me?” Gator lowered his hand, shaking his head. “She said something told her to come. What do I make of that? She has a gut feeling I’m up to something and shows up unannounced? She’s right. I am up to something. I’ve met the best man on the planet, who I want to spend seven long, glorious days with thousands of miles from here. Screw convention, nosy family , and old-fashioned rules that say we can’t.” Gator held out his hand, palm upward, and she gazed downward at it. “Take my hand,” he said. She made no move. “Take it,” he urged. “I promise we’re going. If we have to run away to do it, we will.” She turned her face upward. “You promise?” “Cross my heart. Things seem to be stacking up against us, but it’s only a matter of waiting them out.” She lifted her hand and placed it in his, and he curved his fingers around it. Leading her back inside, he returned to the booth, where Buck now consumed a meal. Sliding in on the opposite side, Gator pulled Celia after him and dragged his meal across the table. He held her hand in his and brought his gaze hard against Buck. “I’ve trusted you with two things valuable to me, my job while I’m gone and my happiness today. You think about that next time you flap your gums. And this as well ...” Gator jabbed one finger his direction. “I know enough of your secrets to make your life really uncomfortable. You squeal on me, and what little goodness I have left for you evaporates.”

Buck didn’t comment, but took another bite of his burger. Gator released Celia’s hand. “So, Friday ...” he began. “Anything I need to bring?” She shook her head. “Just your smile. I can see you have tolerance already.” Buck’s face changed, and Gator grinned.

“Mr. Lawrence, here are your tickets. You excited?” Gator slipped the thin paper sleeve from the desk, flipping it open. “Yes. I can’t wait.” That was becoming truer with each minute of the day, as was his like for Celia Boyle. She was special. And addicting. “She’s a lucky girl to have someone go through all this trouble.” “No trouble,” he replied, “and I’m a lucky guy.” The travel agent tilted her head, a smile on her lips. She tapped one redlacquered fingernail on her desk. “Spoken like someone in love.” In love? He eyed her, her words surging through him. He wasn’t in love. The agent simply didn’t understand the situation. He closed the ticket sleeve and rose from his seat. Extending his hand, he shook hers and turned. “Much appreciated.” He wended his way outdoors. The coolness of the evening was settling in, a fine film of frosty air that by morning would cling to every surface. He used to like this time of year, enjoy the brief change in temperature. After all, working outside as he did, most of the year was inordinately hot. But ever since meeting Celia, the weather had grated on him. He didn’t want to drag out his flannels, didn’t want to put on long pants and work boots. He wanted sun and waves and thousands of miles between him and this. Which was ridiculous because he was a responsible adult. He’d been taught, growing up, that hard work was part of life. A man never shirked his duty. He went to school and got a job, or he got a job and worked to better himself. He might create opportunities that would enable him to work independently, but work was at the center of all he did. He showed up on time, did anything that was required without complaining, and went home at night mentally prepared to do it all over again. Why was that not good enough now? Because he’d accepted it. He’d never pushed the boundaries or tried to do anything outside of the black and white box drawn around him.

Gator climbed in his truck and cranked, the rumble of the diesel engine unsettling for once. Even his truck seemed like a symbol of his compliance. His life was mundane and boring and only half of what it could be simply because he never dared to do anything that went against the status quo. He worked his dad’s company because his dad wanted him to. He moved out, bought a place, because that was what a man did. But after three days of talking to Celia, he no longer believed a man was defined by his job, his responsibilities, or even his possessions. Trouble was, he had no definition to replace it, only an inordinate desire to run away from here and take Celia with him. Emotion clogging his throat, he spun the steering wheel to the right and rolled down a narrow street he hadn’t been on in several years. Sight of the cemetery dropped his feelings into his chest. He suppressed his thoughts, parked, and climbed out, taking the short walk to his mother’s graveside with dragging footsteps. The marble stone, its words etched with precision, caught the late afternoon sun in a glint of whiteness. He dusted his fingers across he lip then fell into a crouch. Your mother’s dying. A twelve-year-old boy hadn’t understood that, or the pain on her face, or the regret in her eyes. Regret? What did his mom have to regret? Not living. Her biggest disappointment was that she wouldn’t be there to see him become a man. She’d miss it all. But she hadn’t known then that she wouldn’t really miss anything. Oh, he’d missed her. He longed to see her face at baseball games and birthdays, holidays and graduation. Longed to talk to her about his day, describe the people he’d seen, the places he’d been. He’d wanted her help decorating his house, so it’d look less male and more like it should, like that softer side of him lived there. That’s what his dad used to say. She’s my softer side. Where you’d see his father, you’d see evidence of her. He was stalwart, his dad, strong and capable and dependable, yet something about his mom clung to him wherever he went. His collar being pressed. She’d done that. His boots being clean. She’d wiped the mud away. His smile at odd moments when something he ed reminded him of her.

“Am I doing the wrong thing?” he asked the gravestone. Not the wrong thing as in taking Celia on a week’s vacation, but the wrong thing as in never rocking the boat. Buck, in some respects, had done that more. He’d refused to work for their dad for the longest time, making his own way, often with a skeptical look from others. But never their dad. Gator turned that over in his head. Their dad had never not loved Buck for it. He’d been disappointed at times, but always taken him back with open arms. He’d simply never had to do that with his eldest, Gator, the good boy, who did what he was told to do when he was told to do it because he was told to do it exactly how he was told to do it. “I’m going,” he said aloud. Going as much to prove something to himself as to make Celia happy, though making her happy had become a strange sort of priority. The smile on her face a light for the one on his own. Maybe that was what the travel agent had seen. Not love, but a friendship that had become so much more than he’d ever expected. He reached for his phone and dialed her number on his way back to his truck. The line rang once, twice. “Hey,” he said, “It’s me. Can you talk?”

The job site lay strangely empty for seven a.m., unused wood and discarded cement blocks the only evidence people had ever been there. Gator clasped his disposable coffee cup in his hand and wished to be back in bed. This thought evaporated at sight of his father’s truck. The clap of the door snapped loud in the still atmosphere, the crunch of his boots explosive. “Good morning, son,” he said, “No sight of your brother?” Gator shook his head. No, and that bothered him. He should be here. “Maybe he isn’t ready.” Ready for responsibility, his dad meant. But he had to be because he needed Buck so he could go off with Celia. The look in his dad’s eyes and, twenty minutes later, the lack of any sight of his brother said differently. “I’ll go get him.” His insides in a knot, Gator tucked his cup to his chest and wandered to his truck. The drive to Buck’s apartment complex took about fifteen minutes. A crowded building full of one-thousand-foot apartments, if you’d seen one, you’d seen the next. Gator skirted around a handful of cars in the lot and sprinted for the stairs. He knocked on Buck’s door, surprised by low voices and frantic scrambling inside. Gator knocked again. “It’s me, Gator. Open up.” “One minute,” Buck responded. The door cracked, and Gator stared in disbelief. A girl, half-clothed, wearing one of Buck’s shirts buttoned over her midriff, slanted one naked leg against the doorframe. “Where’s Buck?” Gator asked, anger replacing his surprise. “In the shower. He says he’ll be right out.” “Who are you?”

She was young, maybe twenty. “Missy. You must be his big brother.” She crossed her arms, enhancing her curves. “He told me about you.” Gator opened his mouth to ask what, but Buck gripped the door and swung it wider. Shoving his shirt tail in his pants, he kissed the girl soundly. “Let yourself out,” he said. He shut it behind him and pushed past Gator toward the stairs. Gator grasped him by the shoulder and pulled him up short. “You preach at me, yet you ...” “I wasn’t when I preached at you,” Buck said, interrupting. “Then I met her and decided why not? My big brother would eventually, so I ought to have a little fun.” Gator’s gaze darkened. “I told you I’m not about that.” Buck’s lip curled. “Yeah, you said it, but I saw her, and frankly, I don’t blame you for wanting a go-around.” Gator stared at him, his mouth slung wide. Just as quickly, he snapped it shut. Taking hold of Buck by the collar, he hauled him downstairs to his truck and shoved him inside. Outraged, he drove too fast and far too reckless. He slung to a halt at the job site and forced his brother out. Jabbing him between the shoulder blades, he steered him toward their father and a handful of gawking workers. Their dad spun around, the heel of his boot digging into the turf. “What’s this?” “Tell him what you were doing,” Gator said. Buck whirled. “Make me, and I’ll tell your little secret.” “What secret? What’s this about?” their father asked. Gator prodded his brother again. “I’ll tell him that myself. Now, spill.” Buck crossed his arms, his mouth clamped tight. Gator’s rage boiled upward. “He was too busy with a girl to show up. She answered the door half-dressed.

Their dad’s cheeks turned red. “This true, son?” Buck nodded, reluctantly. “Ask him what he’s got planned.” Their dad glanced between them both, ending his gaze on Gator. Gator gulped. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He’d promised Celia he’d take her away, and he aimed to keep his word. But this would complicate things. “Well?” their dad asked. Gator wiped a damp palm on the leg of his pants. “I hired Buck because I’m taking a vacation in three weeks. I never get to go anywhere and want to get away.” “Tell him with whom,” Buck pressed. With one eyebrow arched in question, their dad slanted his weight on one hip. Gator paused, the truth leaden on his tongue. He’d fussed at Buck when what he was planning looked just as bad. But it wasn’t. He would never do what Buck had done. He respected Celia. Pain settled on his dad’s face. Having one son disappoint you in a day was bad enough, but for it to be two was unthinkable. Yet the longer time stretched, the more Gator knew he had no choice. He had to tell the truth. What fell out though was not at all what Gator planned, and once spoken, he couldn’t retrieve it. “Her name’s Celia Boyle,” Gator replied. “She’s beautiful, and we’re engaged.”

CHAPTER 4 Celia sank into the hairdresser’s chair, her cell phone mashed to one ear, and tried to gather her breath. Fishtailing, with one foot she swung the chair left, and her image stared back at her – pale skin, large eyes, stiff shoulders. At least, she didn’t have a client right now. One look at her, and they’d be scared half to death. “I’m sorry. It kind of fell out, and now, I’ve made a bigger mess than we already had,” Gator said, apologetic. Engaged. Her sister thought they were engaged. Now, his family thought they were engaged. “I like you. A lot. It . . . it doesn’t change anything.” Didn’t it? This had gone from one week’s vacation to an entire lifetime in the space of a few days. How did she cope with that? If they told everyone the truth, then they wouldn’t get to go. But if they went through with it, then she might be making a huge mistake. Gator Lawrence, a mistake? He was the best, the nicest, the sweetest man she’d ever met. Nothing about him was a mistake. “Buck didn’t say anything against it because I caught him spending the night with a girl.” Celia reclined in the chair, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Spending the night?” Gator laughed, high-pitched and nervous. “Yeah, some girl he picked up at a bar. I can’t believe he even went into one, much less brought a girl home.” He hushed, then cleared his throat. “Celia, I want to say something, so you know my intentions are clear.” Her eyes shut, she concentrated on her breathing, slowing the knock-knock of her heart rate to a more acceptable pace. She had to relax—spazzing out wasn’t helping anyone. She must think this through.

“I’m . . . not after you for . . . for that.” Her eyes flipped open. “Not that you’re not beautiful enough. Not that given the right atmosphere, I wouldn’t think it, but I have morals.” She smiled, the humor of his statement hitting her. “My fiancé has morals. Good to know.” His silence said he didn’t see it. “Gator, relax. I never thought that.” He exhaled. “I’m glad . . . So, what’s our plan?” Their plan. Now, that both sides thought they were engaged, they had a choice to make. Continue the pretense and escape at the last moment. Or confess and perhaps not go at all. The first was deceptive, the second too big of a letdown to consider. “What do you think we should do?” she asked. She took a moment to check the time. Her one o’clock appointment should be here soon. “Maybe let it alone for now,” he replied, “and give it a few days. At the rate things keep changing on us, it might blow over by next week.” “Okay,” she said. But disappointment spiked through her. Blow over? How does one’s faux engagement “blow over?” And why did it seem like that would be just as painful as if they’d been actually engaged in the first place? The beauty shop door jangled, and she stood. “I have to go. Call me later?” “Sure thing. Bye.” “Bye.” Motioning the girl over, she stood and revolved the chair. “Cut and rinse?”

Gator threw himself into his work, doing way more than he needed to, way quicker than was required, simply to avoid facing his father. It partially worked, until at lunchtime when his dad caught up with him and made him stop. “Son, need you to go with me to the office.” “To the office” was standard code for a father-son talk. His dad and his dad’s secretary, Linda, a woman who’d been with the company some twenty years, needed no one to help them at the office. Gator didn’t argue but fell in line, hopping in the enger side of his dad’s four-by-four. After a silent ride, his dad parked outside the battered office trailer, exiting without a word. Gator followed, his footsteps on automatic. He shivered inside the small, frigid space, his nervousness adding to the jittery motion. Linda looked up and offered a smile. “Good afternoon, Gator.” He bobbed his head and trailed behind his dad into the disordered back office. “Close the door.” Obedient, Gator shut it tight and positioned himself behind one of two aged, mismatched chairs. Their cushions much patched by silver duct tape, their wooden rolled arms brown from years of finger oils. “Sit.” Once more, he did as he was told and descended into a memory from his childhood. He was five and had stolen his brother’s toy train. His dad had looked at him just as stern as he was right now. Only this was bigger and far worse. “I realize you have your own life, that you are an adult and make your own decisions,” his father began, “and I know we don’t spend as much time together like we have in the past, but I cannot believe you’d keep something as big as your engagement from me.” Gator wiped damp palms on the leg of his jeans. “It was sudden,” he replied. This seemed safe to say. It was sudden, more than his dad would ever know. His

dad’s steel-eyed gaze softened somewhat, sternness replaced by fatherly concern. “Like the last few days,” Gator added. “I . . . I didn’t know how to approach you since you’ve never met her.” Also true. Gator held his head high, though his natural inclination was to look away. If he was to pull this off, then he couldn’t be embarrassed by it. “She’s really sweet,” he said, “but kind of reserved. She wanted to deal with her family first before . . . before having to meet with mine.” That seemed completely understandable and, to his relief, seemed to resolve the issue. His dad smiled, creases forming at the corners of his eyes. “I wish your mother could be here.” So, did he. Every day he missed her. Yet, if she were here, she’d see through his charade. Guilt clogged his throat. A distinct wrinkle formed over the bridge of his dad’s nose, and his dad pressed one thumb there, slowly rubbing up and down. Gator held his breath. He knew that expression. He was about to say something he wouldn’t like. “This vacation . . . Son, you know I don’t believe a couple should stay together before they’re wed.” Lowering his hand to the desk, his dad brought his eyes to bear on Gator’s face. “I’m willing to give you the time off, but I’m not sure . . .” “Dad, I’m not Buck. I’ve never been Buck, have no intention on behaving like Buck, and you should know that by now. I’m as upset by what he did as you are, and if you ask me . . .” “I haven’t asked you,” his dad said, solemnly. “He’s also an adult, free to make his own decisions. He’s made the wrong one, and I’ve let him know it. I’m sure he and I aren’t finished with the topic either. But this isn’t about your brother. This is about you.” His dad pointed one callused finger his direction. “The temptations of the flesh are strong. You already have feelings for this girl, so how much harder will it be, alone together somewhere?” “I can handle it.”

Because though she was sweet, there weren’t any feelings involved. He couldn’t say that, though, and so let his statement stand on its own. “I’m asking you to reconsider.” Pain raced around Gator’s heart, knife-like. Reconsider. It was as strong as his dad would get on the subject, yet it was also out of the question. He couldn’t reconsider without hurting Celia and breaking his word. “I’ve promised her,” he said calmly, “and I’ve already purchased the tickets. I’m sorry, Dad, but I can’t. You’ll simply have to trust me.” His dad hung his head, strangely still for an uncomfortable period. He looked up, at last, air expelling from his lips, and Gator winced. He’d never disappointed his father quite this bad and never wanted to fix it more. But fixing it required dismantling the wall of half-truths holding everything together. “Very well. I still love you, but I think you should take a day off.” “Wh-why?” he stuttered. “We’re midway through this job, and Buck . . .” “I taught you what you need to know, and I can do the same for your brother. Go home, son, and think about this all weekend. Then show up on Monday.” “And we’ll what? Rehash it? There isn’t anything to rehash. I won’t change my mind three days from now.” His dad stood, and, leaning backward, gave his back a sound crack. “No, I don’t expect you will. But I still want you to do it.” With that, the subject was over. His dad exited the room, leaving him to trail out, his figurative tail tucked. They returned to the job site in silence. His dad gave him the barest glance before walking away. Gator climbed in his truck and aimed home, but halfway there, his mind changed. Home was the last place he wanted to be. Pulling over on the side of the road, he called Celia. “Pick up. Pick up,” he muttered. The line clicked. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. I need to see you. Please?” The background noises muffled suddenly, and she spoke, cheerfully, to someone in the room. A moment later, she returned. “Sorry about that. What’s wrong?” “Nothing seeing your face won’t help.” She laughed. “With a comment like that, how can I say no? Can you come to the shop? Green building on Third.” “I’ll be there in ten.” “Okay. I’ll be waiting.” She disconnected, and he shifted into drive, his heart lighter than it had been, the few hours left in his day that much brighter. His dad didn’t get it, but then, his dad hadn’t met her. If he had, he’d know why cancelling the trip was unthinkable.

Celia stepped outside the beauty shop and wandered to Gator’s side. He wasn’t the cleanest. His shirt dusted with soil. Bits of cement and sawdust filmed his neck and arms. She didn’t complain, though, because something had upset him to bring him here. “What’s wrong?” she asked. He leaned back on his truck’s front grill, crossing his ankles. “My dad and I had a ‘talk.’” He made quotation marks in the air. “Not good, huh?” He shook his head. “What did he say? Unless you don’t want to tell me, which is okay.” “No. I need to say it, or I’ll explode.” Gator exhaled. “He treated me like I was ten, not that I blame him. But after what Buck did, I hardly think I deserve worse. I’m twenty-five!” His eyes hard, his teeth clenched, he spat the statement. “I’ve always done what he’s asked, never argued, never tried to go against him when that’s all my brother’s ever done. Yet now, Buck’s working my job, and I’m dismissed until Monday. I’m supposed to crawl back on my hands and knees and beg for forgiveness.” She made a shallow breath, focusing her thoughts. Whatever his brother had done, it wasn’t her place to ask. Instead, he needed an outside perspective. “Maybe that’s the point,” she said. “You’re the good boy. Given enough time, your dad figured you will come around, whereas your brother wouldn’t. So, why bother?” “He’s wrong.” Petulant, Gator kicked the toe of his work boot in the gravel, sending pebbles shooting across the sidewalk. “He’s wrong about what part?” she asked. “You being the good boy? Or you coming around to the truth?” “Both.”

Her lips quirked, and she stifled a laugh. With one finger, she poked him in the ribs. “That so, huh? You’re a bad boy now, and I should consider myself warned?” Digging her nails into his side, she wriggled them around, and he squirmed. A grin emerged, and he captured her hand and dragged her to him. The weight of his palm landed gentle on her back, the planes of his chest pressing firm against her, and she froze, lost in the darkness of his gaze. An approaching car shook her awake. Retreating, Celia smoothed her shirt, and what was intimate, moments ago, became awkward. The woman who’d arrived nodded at them on her way into the shop. “I have another customer in about ten,” Celia said. “If you want to hang out for thirty minutes, I’m free for dinner.” Gator inclined his head in acceptance, and she turned to go. He curled his fingers over her arm. “Celia, about what just happened . . .” “Don’t,” she said. She shook her head, and he hushed. His hand loosened. Not looking back, she wandered inside. Seeking to drive out her bothersome thoughts, she grasped the broom and attacked the floor with vigor. She shouldn’t be so rattled. It was natural for them to notice one another. After all, his looks were what had attracted her in the first place. She slowed her pace and tried to relax. Yet, half an hour later, she closed her booth, and her jitters returned. Curling her fingers tight around her purse strap like a lifeline, she peered in his driver’s side window. “Hey, stranger. Where to?” He lifted his head from the seat back, raised one arm, and sniffed. “I need a shower. I don’t suppose you mind going to my place?” “No, of course, not. I’m flattered that you’d invite me.” “You want to follow?” he asked.

She nodded and headed for her car. Gator lived in a small ranch-style home on a nicely landscaped lot. A thick green lawn spread from the curb to the stoop, where knee-high bushes lined the front wall. She parked behind him and followed him to the door. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, once they’d gone inside. “I’ll only be a few.” He vanished down a long, dark hallway, and she turned into a formal living area. It was definitely bachelor male, though it was clean and organized. The décor, mostly brown-on-brown, left something to be desired. She took a seat on the loveseat and reclined. His rapid approach, minutes later, startled her. She twisted left and met his gaze. “Sorry, about that . . .” he said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He stepped in front of her, bathing her in the scent of soap and cologne. “It’s all right,” she said, standing. “I like your place.” He glanced around the room. “Want to see the rest?” She nodded, and he waved her ahead of him through the doorway and to the right toward a large open space. Orange Mexican tile and dark wood trim filled a more casual living room. A stone fireplace on one end displayed an amazing mantel, its intricately-carved wood gleaming in the low light. She ran her fingers over it. “This is beautiful. Where’d you get it?” She glanced behind. He smiled. “I made it.” “You made it?” “With a chainsaw.”

“Really?” Her brows rose. “You can do those carvings of like bears and stuff?” He chuckled. “Yes, I can do bears and stuff, but I don’t too often. There’s no time.” She lowered her hand to her side and turned in a slow circle. “You, Gator, are a man of talent.” He seemed happy about that, at first, then an instant later, his expression sobered. She walked up to him, daring herself to get close. “Don’t let your dad get to you. He’s a parent, and that’s what they do . . . check up on their kids. I imagine it’s harder for him than some, too. You know, with you and your brother working for him all the time, he probably isn’t sure where to draw a line.” “Oh, he drew one. Told me I needed to ‘reconsider.’ That’s Lawrence-family-talk for change my mind. But I’m not changing my mind.” Her smile wavered. “I never wanted to get you in trouble. I simply thought . . .” She sighed. “I don’t know what I thought. That it’d be easy? I mean, how hard could it be for two people to leave town? But now, it’s like every move we make causes someone else to move also. We’re marionettes, dragged around on a string.” His gaze grew reflective. “Celia, about earlier . . .” “No, now. I said don’t for a reason, and it wasn’t because I was embarrassed. You are a very attractive man, something I knew already, but that only sealed it.” His soft laugh was heartening, his response, equally so. “Wasn’t me that was so attractive,” he replied. A thousand stars lit in her gut. “You’re beautiful, and I noticed.” He raised his palm to her cheek. The warmth of his touch seeped outward, and nervous, she laughed. “Look at us, playing grown up.” She attempted to step backward, but he stopped her.

“I’m not playing anymore.” “Gator, I’m not sure . . .” He cut her off. “No, you’re going to let me say this. I know we got into this on a whim. You wanted to leave town, and I was willing to take you. Now, it’s all mixed up. People think we’re engaged but we’re not. My dad thinks I’m headed toward . . . I don’t know, eternal destruction . . . and maybe, you’re right, and he’s just being a dad. I respect him, still, and all he and mom taught us. At the same time, I’m not stupid. Lock a man and a woman together in a nice setting and stuff happens. But maybe, that’s the purpose of all this. Maybe, you and I will find something we didn’t expect.” Celia swallowed the lump in her throat. “Don’t try to stop it if we do.” She bit her lip, standing silently for a while. “I’m not sure what to say,” she finally said. “That was the sweetest thing any man has ever said to me.” “Not any man,” he returned. “Me. I’ve made a choice. Originally, it was simply to take you away from here. But now, it’s to take us away, to see if what we have can be something greater. A crash course in . . . in falling in love.” Falling in love? But would that be so bad? Here was someone with so many good sides to him. It could be he was right, and they’d find something amazing in each other. Stranger things had happened to bring people together. A knock at the door turned their heads, then a deep male voice called out. “Gator, let me in.” Gator frowned. “What does he want?” The knock repeated, and his footsteps heavy, Gator stomped from the room. He slung the front door open but stood tall, blocking the entrance. Buck’s gaze strayed past him and landed on her. “Good. You’re both here.” “What do you want?” Gator snapped.

Buck hung his head, contrite. “C’mon, bro. I have news for both of you. Swallow your stubborn pride, for once, and hear me out.” Celia raised a palm to the center of Gator’s back. “Maybe, we should listen.” He glanced over his shoulder, holding in place, then sighed and reversed. Buck stepped inside, yanking his ball cap off and wadding it in his hands. “Well?” “Well, you have to get out of town.” Gator crossed his arms, his brow drawing downward. “We are getting out of town in three weeks.” Buck shifted his stance. “No, you’re not hearing me. You have to get out of town before Monday.” “Monday? What happens on Monday?” Celia asked. Buck gazed at her, not speaking for a few seconds. “I don’t know how much he told you about my dad. He’s a great guy, and we both love him. But he has a way of rearranging things like he wants them.” “I told him my mind is made up, that he isn’t going to change it,” Gator said. Buck glanced back in his brother’s direction. “He knows that, so he’s making alternate plans.” “Alternate plans?” Celia asked. Buck nodded. “If Gator’s still around on Monday, then he’s sending him off where he won’t be around for well over a month.” Gator stiffened, and his face shaded red. “Sending me where? I’ll refuse.” Buck shuffled his feet again. “You won’t have a choice. You’re going to Cincinnati.” “What’s in Cincinnati?” Celia asked.

Buck took a deep breath. “You either leave town this weekend,” he said to Gator, “or he’s sending you to Uncle Ross.”

CHAPTER 5 Uncle Ross. The last person on the planet Gator ever wanted to spend time with was Uncle Ross. He opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak. Confusion crisscrossed Celia’s face. “He can’t do that. Can he?” she asked. Buck turned to her. “If Gator ever wants to take over the business, he can. Mind you, he didn’t tell me this, but I overheard him on the phone. He’s definitely set it up. The fact he called Uncle Ross at all means his seriously upset.” “They don’t get along?” Buck shook his head. “Never have. Dad and his brother . . .” She cut him off. “It’s his brother?” He nodded. “Older brother. The two of them have never seen eye to eye. Worse than me and Gator have ever been.” “Why are you here?” Gator asked. Why would Buck care if he knew or not? It’d be better for him if he went. “You mean, because you got me in such deep . . .” Buck halted with an apologetic glance at Celia. “Deep trouble,” he finished. “Why?” Gator asked again. “Because it matters to me. That’s why. I’ll it I was jealous of you and her. Jealous enough, I went out and picked up the first girl who offered to come home. It was stupid . . . but I’ve spent my entire life trying to catch up with you. You were the light in Dad’s eyes. You’d get an A, and I’d get a B. Not so bad, but it’d be your paper he’d brag about. It’s always been that way, and I’ve resented it.” “I didn’t ask him to do that.” “I know. But when he started grooming you for the company, there it was again. I mean, I can do just as much. I could be good at it. He’s simply never believed

it.” “For what it’s worth, I’ve never said you couldn’t.” Buck snorted. “You didn’t have to. Dad did it for you.” He glanced at Celia. “Don’t take any of this personally,” he said. “Dad’s not judging who you are, just where he thinks Gator and I need to be. If you’d met him, you’d like him.” Celia clearly wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t comment, posing a different type question. “Why your uncle?” she asked. “How can he send him there?” “Uncle Ross owns half of everything,” Gator replied. “I have to have his approval to ever own the company.” He hung his head. “If I don’t go, Uncle Ross will cause trouble. If I do, then we’re sunk.” “That’s why I came. You should leave,” Buck said. “If you do, I can talk to Dad and give him some sense of things.” “You? I should lay my future in your hands?” Gator asked, incredulous. “I deserve that. But, honestly, I’m on your side this time. I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy sent to Cincinnati, much less my own brother. And I know once Dad figures out you’ve left town, he’ll be super upset, and most of that will land on me. I’m used to it. I’m giving you a chance to live your dream.” Wary, eyes narrowed, Gator’s voice deepened. “Why?” he asked, once more. Buck loosened his grip on his hat, dropping his hands to his sides. “Because I’ve seen the way you look at her and the way she looks at you, and if you’re both too blind to realize it, then I’ll spell it out for you. You’re on the edge of something special, something like what Mom and Dad had, and I won’t be the one to stop it from happening.” “I know it’s unusual,” he continued. “Two strangers can’t run off and find love. Days ago, I’d have said the same thing, but now . . . go. Take off to some beach somewhere and spend however many days staring into each other’s eyes. Go and fall in love, then come back and prove to everyone that you were meant to be.” Gator turned toward Celia. Shaking, her face pale, she seemed to curl in on herself.

“I have clients,” she said. “I can’t just leave.” “Can someone take them for you? Or if not, then offer a discount. I’ll pay you whatever difference you lose.” “I can’t ask you to do that.” “I’m offering to do it. I want this.” “But the tickets you bought aren’t any good yet, so where will we go?” Buck cleared his throat. “I gave that some thought. If I can say something?” Gator waved him on. “Give me the tickets and the number of your agent, I’ll get you a refund. Meanwhile, take a plane to anywhere. Miami, maybe, and hole up for a day or so until you figure out where you’re going. Don’t me or anyone else, and don’t answer your phone. Then go with your heart. Wherever you find that seems to be perfect, go there and don’t look back.” Gator took her hands in his, excitement building. “Please, Celia.” She hesitated still. “My sister . . . What do I do about her? She has dinner planned.” Buck replied. “I’ll show up and explain everything.” “But we need clothing and shoes and essentials . . .” “They can all be bought,” Gator finished for her. “You’re not made out of money,” she argued. “Nor am I.” Buck stuck out his hand, a credit card poised between his fingers. “It’s on me.” Gator flinched. “I can’t take that.” “Sure, you can. that insurance money I got for injuring my back? I still have most of it. Take my card and use it. It’ll pay for the trip, the food, and any clothes you need. If you decide to pay it back later, that’s fine, but it’s no

rush. I don’t need it for anything.” Celia detached herself from Gator and, unhesitating, wrapped her arms around Buck. “You know, I think you’re a pretty good brother after all.” A goofy grin rose on his face. “So?” Gator asked. “Are we doing this?” She released Buck and spun on one heel, emotion working on her face. “I can’t believe I’m going to agree . . .” “You . . . you’ll go?” he asked, his throat thick. She bobbed her head, and he released a loud whoop. He pulled her to his chest, raising her off the floor, and her breaths rushed out. The room fell away. “Like I said . . .” Buck muttered. Gator lowered her to her feet, unable to stop a smile from forming. Celia’s gaze spun wide. “Oh, goodness. We . . . we’re leaving. Phone calls. I need to make phone calls and arrange my schedule. Plus, we . . . we have to catch a flight. My sister will want to know why I’m not coming home, and . . .” Pulling her cell phone from her purse, she aimed for the front door. “I’ll be outside.” “I owe you,” Gator said after the door closed. Buck shook his head. “Nah. This is payback for all those times I was such a jerk.” Gator extended his hand, and after a minute’s hesitation, Buck clasped it. “Never did think you were such an awful brother to start with,” Gator said. Buck tightened his grip. “I meant it. You and her fall in love. I want a sister-inlaw and a lot of little Lawrences running around.” Gator shivered. “You’ve finally gone one step too far.”

“Your luggage, sir?” Gator placed his suitcase on the loading platform, one eye on the airline ticket clerk. The clerk glanced from him to Celia and back. “Just the one?” she asked. He nodded. “Just one.” “Very well. Here are your tickets. You’ll be on Flight 205, leaving in half an hour. Boarding will be in Wing A.” She pointed her fingers left. “Follow those signs, and you can’t miss it.” “Thanks,” he replied. The clerk offered a bright smile. “You’re welcome, sir, and enjoy your flight.” Taking Celia’s hand, Gator headed the direction the girl had indicated. He walked a bit too fast, and Celia skipped to catch up. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she said. Slowing his pace, he glanced across at her. “Me either. You made all your phone calls?” She bobbed her head. “My friend, Jean, said she’d call my clients. I owe her big time now. I wish, though . . . I wish I could have called my sister. I hated sending a note.” He tried to look sympathetic. He wished all of this could have been done differently. “If you’d called her, she would have stopped the whole thing. No, Buck was right. He’ll take her the note, and it’ll be for best.” Sadness fastened on Celia’s lips. “She’s going to be so upset.” He squeezed her fingers. “So is my dad. But we can’t think about that right now. We have a plane to catch. Good news is I secured a hotel room in Miami for two days. Once we’re checked in, I’ll do what Buck suggested and see where we can go at the last minute. I’m sure there’s something out there.”

“Is it really that simple?” Turning left, down the wide corridor, Gator scanned for the correct waiting area. “If we don’t take the risk, then we have nothing to gain.” “Don’t you mean ‘lose?’” He halted. “No, I said gain. You, Celia Boyle, are an asset.” She smiled. He gave her a hug then continued forward. Showing their boarding es to the uniformed stewardess, they walked onto the airplane and located their assigned seats. “You ever fly before?” Gator asked. Celia held up one finger. “Once. To see Marianne.” She leaned back in the seat and groaned. “Oh, she’s going to kill me!” Gator draped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “She can’t kill you. She can’t reach you. What’d you put in your note anyway?” She leaned against him. It felt good to have her there. “The truth. Except for the part not being engaged. That seemed too hard to explain. I told her the vacation wasn’t our honeymoon, that your schedule changed, and we had to go now or not at all. I said I’d send her a postcard.” “Short and sweet.” “Offensive.” She frowned. “’Dear Sis, I’m running off with a man I met at the DMV. I’m nuts. Signed, Celia.’” Gator patted her shoulder. “We’re friends now, and you know all there is about me. Most everything. I’m pretty transparent. Although, I’m sure I have a few bad habits. Doesn’t everyone?” She pulled her head back, gazing up at him. “Whatever they are, I think they’ll be counterbalanced with all the good in you.” She laid her head on his shoulder again. “I can’t believe how much my life has changed since we met.”

“I can’t believe we’re leaving town at the drop of a hat.” “And in exactly an hour we’ll be in Miami.” “I need to go shopping.” She raised her head again. “That was generous of Buck, giving us his money. Exactly how much did he get?” “Twenty thousand,” he said. She pulled in a breath. “Wow. He must have had a good lawyer.” “He did. My aunt.” Her brow wrinkled. “Your aunt? How many Lawrences are there?” Gator looked forward. “Let’s see. It might take me the entire flight, but by the time we arrive I might can list them all.” “Before you do,” she said, “I’ll give you mine because it’s short. There’s me, my sister, Marianne, and somewhere in Idaho, our cousin, Harold.” “Idaho?” Celia nodded. “Yep, and you get one guess what he does for a living.” “Potatoes?” “Acres and acres of them. Marianne says he’s started to look like one now, but I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been there for years.” She snuggled against him. “Okay, your turn.” Gator breathed in the scent of her, despite the oddness of the moment, sure of one thing. He had no regrets about this trip. He enjoyed being around her, enjoyed seeing her happy. That made it all worth it. “I’m waiting,” Celia said. He cleared his thoughts. “I’ll start at the top ...”

Somewhere between Gator’s third and fourth cousins, Celia nodded off. She woke up minutes before they landed, extremely disoriented. Gator guided her to baggage claim and secured a taxi. On the drive from the airport to the hotel, reality crept in. Block after block of sky-high steel and concrete whizzed past, so unlike their small Florida town. How had she ended up here? Though she knew the facts, the question kept repeating. It spoke even louder once they’d stepped inside the hotel. The lavish furnishings were unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and she felt out-of-place. “We’d like two rooms,” Gator said to the clerk. Panic grabbed hold. Two? That was honorable of him, but all of this was so unfamiliar . . . Celia grabbed Gator’s arm. “Can we get one?” Worry creased his forehead. “Maybe, we can rent two, side by side.” “No, please,” she insisted. “I won’t sleep.” Gator seemed to argue with himself, then faced the clerk. “One room. Something with double beds . . . and for two nights, I think.” Transferring her gaze to the computer screen, the clerk reached beneath the counter and produced a keycard, sliding it his direction. “Room 512. The elevators are on the right. Do you need any help with your luggage, sir?” Gator handed her Buck’s credit card and shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thanks.” The clerk plucked a receipt from a small printer. “Enjoy your stay.” The ride upstairs stretched out long, and Celia’s fears took on a lurid glow. Her stomach swished this way and that. She mashed her palm to her waist to still it. She wouldn’t spoil things for him. He’d gone through so much trouble to bring her here. Yet, once inside the room, a tremor skated up her limbs. She ran her fingers along the length of her arms. “They keep it cool in here,” she said.

Gator dropped their bag on the bed and paced over to the window. “I’ll see if I can adjust the temperature.” After several minutes fiddling with the thermostat, he straightened. “I’m not sure I accomplished anything.” Celia’s panic grew. She couldn’t do this. What was she thinking, to run away with him? Her fears mixed with her guilt. She’d planned this trip. Pull back now and she’d look so foolish. Desperate to clear her head, she turned her back on him and headed for the bathroom sinks, splashing water on her cheeks. Gator followed. “What’s wrong?” When she didn’t respond, he placed one hand on her shoulder and spun her around. “Confession?” she asked. “I’m afraid. I mean, I do want to go. But . . .” He wrapped an arm around her. “Close your eyes,” he said. Breathing in deep, she obeyed. “This is me and you, together,” he said, his voice low. “Forget everything else. We’re going to have seven blissful days without worries or cares, thinking of nothing but how I feel about you.” She turned her gaze upward. How he felt about her? How had she found someone like him? Someone so secure, so trustworthy. Her mood lifted. “All I can say is, I don’t want to be anywhere else but here with you,” he continued. “No one needs to understand that but us.” She pressed her cheek to his chest. “Someone pinch me and wake me up.” “No,” he replied. “This is one long, perfect dream.”

CHAPTER 6 Gator and Celia stepped away from the sinks, their eyes on each other. She appeared to have relaxed somewhat. She’d been jittery since they’d arrived. She’d tried not to show it, but the set of her chin and her nervous movements had given it away. He understood why. It was one thing to say they were going off together, another to act on it. He’d done his best to reassure her on the rightness of this trip, but in the back of his head, he worried he’d forced her to come along. After all, it was his dad’s behavior that’d caused their change of plans. And apparently, given what she’d just said, she wasn’t ready. Was he? What Buck had said about falling in love added pressure in his mind. Every time she looked his way; he couldn’t help but stare. When she spoke, he was eager to hear what she had to say. He liked having her beside him. He’d never thought that about a girl. A woman. Gator corrected himself. Celia was a woman. He’d learned that, for sure, today. He pulled in a breath. Was it only today his dad had dismissed him? And he’d run off like a child. His gut twisted. If she worried about her sister’s reaction, he pictured his dad’s. Gator tossed his head. He had to let it go. He’d promised Celia a wonderful vacation and would mess things up if he kept thinking about that. “Let’s go to dinner,” he said. Celia’s face brightened. “I am hungry. We missed lunch.” There’d been no time to eat with packing and catching a flight. “There are two restaurants downstairs,” he said. “You pick. Whichever one you choose will be perfect.” They returned to the lobby, crossing the wide, tiled space to the entrance of a

pair of fine-dining restaurants. A framed menu hung on the wall outside either one. Celia glanced at each, then at him. “Maybe we should choose this one?” She waved her hand toward the one with American cuisine. One hand in the small of her back, he steered her toward to the hostess station. “Two, please.” The hostess nodded and, removing a pair of menus from beneath the stand, motioned them inward through evenly-spaced, round tables toward one by a floor-to-ceiling window. Though the place was very high class, clean white cloths and fine china on the tables, the patrons were mostly dressed like tourists. A waitress arrived, took their orders, and returned, moments later, with two glasses of icy water. “We should talk about something,” Celia said, “and I can’t think of what’s left. Seems like we’ve shared so much.” “How ‘bout this trip? What would you like to do? Social events? Cultural stuff? Historical sites?” That would make a difference in where they went. Celia took a sip of her water. “I like sightseeing. I guess if you travel so far to visit, you should look around. Right? And finding out the history of a place is also interesting. But really, I simply want to relax, stare at the water from sunrise to sunset, and then, after dark, lay under the stars.” He’d pictured her doing that when they’d met. The picture had added colors and details since then. He could see her in it, her personality, her smiles and laughter. “What about you?” He cleared his throat, overwhelmed. “I don’t know. I guess if I was by myself I’d go fishing.” She smiled, her cheeks shading pink. “But this isn’t about me. This is your dream.” Her expression smoothed. “This is us. You said that.”

“Of course, it is,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to imply that I wouldn’t enjoy it, but more than anything else, I want you to be happy.” Their food arrived, and the conversation halted. Their stomachs full, later, and the bill paid, they strolled through the lobby and onto the pool deck. A handful of people swam in the blue water, despite the growing darkness. Leaning on the pool gate, Gator watched a father play with his young son. “That makes me think of my dad.” Regret formed a ball in his gut. His dad, who right now wondered what’d happened to his son. Celia grasped his arm. “Don’t do that.” Gator sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sour the mood.” She compressed her fingers. “He’s your dad. He was trying to do what he thought was right for you.” But what was right for him wasn’t sending him to Uncle Ross. He’d worked hard to earn his place at his dad’s side, and his dad’s actions nullified all of that. “He should have talked with me as a man, not a boy,” Gator replied. “When I was fifteen sending me there would have worked but not now.” Still, he loved his dad and hated that this was between them. He hated it worse that he’d lied to him about Celia and left things unsolved while they were gone. He shook himself mentally. No, he’d said they weren’t thinking about that tonight, so he had to stop. “Let’s forget about it. It’s late.” Celia raised one hand over her mouth, covering a yawn. “Yes, and we should go up,” she said. “I confess, I’m tired.” With a nod, Gator waved her back the way they’d come. Neither one said anything on their way upstairs. He let them into the room, his thoughts on watching a little TV. The door clicked shut, and Celia stiffened. He couldn’t see her face to know for sure, but the quiet of the small space, the closeness of it must’ve hit home. This was the first night they’d spend together,

after all. A man and a woman dealing with their growing emotions. And it hit him . . . her with nothing to wear or sleep in. “I have a t-shirt you can borrow,” he said. “I figured it might be comfortable.” Her shoulders tensed, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Celia.” Gator round in front of her. “I meant my promise. I’m not going to make a move on you.” She moistened her lips. “I believe you, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t notice me, and I won’t notice you.” She spoke soft. “How about for now, I’ll close my eyes until you get in bed. How’s that?” She nodded, but on her face, he read a new thought—that’d work for tonight but what about tomorrow and the days after that? A week had seemed short until now, and probably, she feared how so much time together would change them. Being honest with himself, after one day alone with her, so did he. He reversed. Digging through his bag, he produced the t-shirt. She took it, unspeaking, and he turned around. “I’m going to get a quick bath,” she said. “Sure. Go ahead.” The rush of water came through the wall and the sound of her movements. His mind swerved. She was so close, and he’d bet, amazing with her skin damp, her hair touseled. He gulped. He had to stop. They were adults, and as adults would make the right choice. He intended to keep his word. Yet, the longer he stood there, the more his head went in the opposite direction. He was also young and healthy, and she was wonderful. The water ceased, and after a brief pause, the door opened. The scent of soap and shampoo tickled his nostrils. He kept his back to her until she spoke, and even

then, he hesitated. “Gator?” He turned in place. There wasn’t anything to see. She’d covered herself with the bedsheets, but there she was, so close. “I think I’ll take one as well,” he said. A cold shower. Which, right now, wouldn’t alter anything at all.

Something bothered Gator, and Celia suspected she knew what it was. Though she believed he’d protect and watch over her, though she was sure they’d have a good time on this trip, he didn’t understand that all the thoughts he struggled with had also entered her brain. She felt things for him she’d never felt for a man before and, as a result, had discovered she wasn’t as strong and moralistic as she’d always thought. Even when dating Kenny, she couldn’t fighting so much between her head and her heart. And Kenny was not Gator. Not by a long shot. Gator wanted to hold her, really hold her. It was written all over his face. He didn’t understand how much she wanted him to do just that. And maybe, it’d be innocent, and nothing would come of it. But what if it wasn’t and something did? They weren’t ready for that. Sitting there in the DMV, he’d been a nice guy fulfilling her heart’s wish. But now, this was less about the destination and more about being together, and that changed everything. This was standing in one place yet seeing nothing but his face. This was thousands of miles between them and home yet having beside her all she’d ever need. This was long days and longer nights dedicated to the look in his eyes, the brush of his hands, the sound of his voice. This was one beautiful kiss where the world fell away and nothing remained but the mingling of their breath. Heat swept over her, and Celia reached for the TV remote. itting she wanted him to kiss her would only add pressure. He’d feel obligated again, and, if there was one thing she’d learned about Gator Lawrence, he was a man of his word. What he’d said he would do, he would die trying to accomplish. As much as she’d like him to kiss her, she wouldn’t tell him that. The TV flashed shadows on the walls, and the sound filled the room. However, she didn’t see or hear any of it. Instead, there was the clunk of him emerging from the shower, the rattle of the curtain being pushed back, and when the door opened, the heady smell of a freshly-washed man.

He’d dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, his skin reddened with his efforts, his hair damp on his collar. Her mouth dried. “I’ve always liked this show,” she said, distracting herself. “Can’t say as I’ve ever watched it.” Gator crossed the room, each footstep pounding in her brain. He took a seat on the end of the other bed. “Well, there’s a father and his two sons . . .” Desperate to have something to say, she spent way too much time on her explanation, aware of the irony of the program. That show ended, eventually, and another began. An uneasy silence formed. Her cell phone buzzed. Leaning over, Celia plucked it from the bedside table, her heart pounding. “Your sister?” She made a weak smile. “I guess Buck has talked to her.” Not answering the call, she returned the phone to the stand. Moments later, it buzzed again. This time, she switched it off. “That’s enough of that,” she said. “I should have left it at your place.” His phone rang next. He read the name on the screen and raised it to his ear. “Hey.” It’s Buck he mouthed to her. “Yeah, she just called. No, Celia didn’t pick up . . . I bet. I’m sorry you had to face that . . . on both ends. Sure, I’ll try, though I haven’t any idea where we’re going. I’ll look into it tomorrow . . . Thanks, man. This means a lot.” The call ended, and he dropped the phone in his lap. “My sister?” she asked. Gator expelled a loud breath. “Your sister was completely calm, he said. She read the note and thanked him. But Buck said to forget about it and have fun.”

“Can we do that?” she asked. “Gator, I . . .” She hushed. She had no right to say what was on her mind. “What?” he asked, when she didn’t finish. “It’s nothing. I’m tired. I think I’ll try to sleep.” He nodded, and she switched off the television and the lamp. Laying there in the darkness, the truth stared at her again. Neither one of them was sleeping because everything about this trip was wrong: the location, their families’ feelings, and now, also their own. Celia squeezed her eyes shut. It couldn’t be ruined. It simply couldn’t. Tomorrow was a new day. It’d look better in the morning. She hoped.

A ray of light slanted in her eyes, and Celia blinked, trying to focus. All the happenings of the previous day rushed in, and taking a sharp breath, she turned her head. Gator had rolled away from her during the night, his face toward the window. His t-shirt had ridden up exposing his spine. She stared for a moment, then gathered her thoughts. She should visit the restroom before he awakened and preserve a bit of dignity. Flipping the bed covers back, she swung her legs over the side of the mattress, her feet settling on the carpet. With another glance his way, she padded across the room and carefully shut the bathroom door. When she emerged, he hadn’t moved. She ought to get dressed, though she hated to wear what she’d had on the day before. There was no helping that. After breakfast, she’d go shopping and buy something new. Gathering her things from where she’d left them in the floor, she tucked them to her chest and reentered the bathroom. This time, the door opening brought him awake. Gator laid flat, his eyes on the ceiling, one arm folded behind his head. “Sleep well?” she asked. He glanced at her. “I guess. You?” “Good enough.” Knowledge formed on his face, his gaze scanning her from head to toe. “I have to do some research this morning and find us tickets, but maybe we can find you something to wear first.” Celia bobbed her head. “That sounds good.” Reseating herself on the mattress, she reached for the remote and switched on the TV. Their conversation stilled. A few minutes ing, Gator pulled himself

out of bed and wandered to the restroom. He reappeared, one hand pressed over his eye. “What’s wrong?” “Not sure. Maybe an eyelash in my eye.” He rubbed harder, and tears formed in his lashes. “Here, let me look.” Celia patted the bed at her side. A quick inspection confirmed his diagnosis. She brushed the lash away and lowered her hand to her side. Everything she’d thought about him last night reformed. Only now, he was right here, so close. How beautiful one kiss would be. Her chin tilted, and his head dipped closer. Guilt knotted in her gut. “Gator,” she whispered. “I want this, but given everything else, maybe . . . maybe, we should wait.” He scooted back, hasty, his face apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. I’ll keep my distance.” He stood. Unhappy, she grasped his arm. “No, wait. You’ve misunderstood me.” Celia tugged, turning him toward her. “Let’s be honest. I like you. If I was to ask who my friends were, you’d be at the top of the list. Even greater, I trust you, and your opinion matters to me. But it’s more than that now. Yesterday, I realized how female I am. That makes me afraid, but not of you. I’m afraid of me.” His gaze softened. “You can trust yourself with me. I won’t let you go to far.” “There’s the thing,” she replied, drawing closer. Her voice lowered. “I want nothing more than to get carried away.” He said nothing, but wrapping his arms around her, tucked her against him. She laid her cheek to his chest. He was perfect, at least, to her. Though he must have his faults, she couldn’t see them for the rosy glow in her eyes.

If this was what falling in love felt like, then she was well on her way.

CHAPTER 7 Celia halted in front of the hotel gift-shop, her eye on the display window. “I could buy a few things here. They have cute t-shirts, though I could use clean pants, and I’m not sure if they carry anything. I’ll make do. That’ll save time, so you can find us a place to go.” Gator gave the store the barest glance. “You shouldn’t have to wear ‘I love Florida’ t-shirts every day. I think it’ll be okay. I’ll have all afternoon to look.” She stepped backward. “It would be fun to shop in Miami. If you’re sure . . .” He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t about to say so. In fact, if anything, he was nervous. This was all so last minute. Where could they possibly go? It could be they’d have to stay in the hotel another night, and that was one more day they wouldn’t have on their vacation. He let the thought go. She had to have clothing, so he would take her shopping. It was that simple. “We’ll call a cab,” he said. The cab arrived within a few minutes, and they climbed in and sped off. The morning flew past. Celia purchased a handful of things, a couple blouses, a pair of slacks, and a cute sundress. For lunch, they stopped at a popular seafood restaurant. Thus, it was two o’clock before they returned to the hotel. Gator halted in the lobby. He needed to consult some online travel agents. He’d escort her to the room and come back down. Celia seemed to sense his question. “You know, I’d really like a nap for an hour. Why don’t you stay here and see what you can figure out? I’m sure I can find my way upstairs.” “You’re sure?” he asked. “I don’t mind going along.” She patted his sleeve. “It’s okay. I’ll feel better, knowing we have plans.” “I’ll walk you to the elevators, just the same.”

After the elevator doors closed, he turned in place and headed for a series of small travel stations. Taking a paper from his pocket, Gator reread the name of the place he’d booked before. He typed in the information and hit search. Full. Maybe if he called . . . “I’m sorry, sir, but all our rooms are taken,” the telephone clerk said. Discouraged, Gator hung up. That was a long shot, but there were other places. He’d be persistent and, surely, he’d find something. What if he let go of the cottage idea and looked for a hotel room? They didn’t need quite so many conveniences. There was somewhere he could take her that, maybe, wasn’t ideal but would be nice. And inside their budget. With a flight that left soon. Yet, his gut clenched tighter with each search he made, and his standards lowered a little more. One more hour of searching, he said to himself. One more hotel search. He clicked on an available room. But not that one. It had only one bed. Gator blew out a breath and hit next.

Celia checked the time again, her worry growing. Gator had been gone a while, and that seemed bad. He must’ve run into problems, in which case, he should adjust their plans. Maybe don’t expect as much. He’d find something, somewhere, she told herself. These things took time. Yet, another hour ed and another. She could text him and find out what was happening. Switching on her cell, she waited for the device to load. The screen flashed again and again. One, two, three, four . . . five calls from her sister, and she’d left two voicemails. Her thoughts of Gator vanished. She’d done the wrong thing by running off. She should have trusted her sister with the truth. Marianne might not have agreed, but if she’d explained herself, she and Gator wouldn’t be in this mess. She’d acted so childish, trying to hide her plans. She didn’t blame him at all. All the troubles that had spun out of this trip landed on her shoulders. He would never have had to lie if not for her coming up with this crazy idea. Celia opened her voicemail. She ought to at least hear what her sister had to say. Selecting the first message, she hit play, and her sister’s motherly voice carried through the speaker. “Celia, please, please call me. I’m so worried. I know you say you’re engaged, but I keep asking myself why I knew nothing about it. It’s not like you. When you dated the other guy, you told me everything, and now, this is just sprung on me? I don’t like that you’ve run away with him when we’ve never met. I love you. Please call me.” Celia’s eyes misted with tears. Marianne was right. It wasn’t like her to keep things quiet. She had sprung it on her. She selected the second message. “Celia. Why haven’t you called? Where are you? I . . . I talked to your fiancé’s brother, Buck. I think that was his name. He says you’re fine. Why, if you’re fine, haven’t you called? I’m not going home until I hear from you, even if that

means waiting all week. Please. I love you.” A sob escaped. Celia folded her face into her lap, the phone slipping from her grasp. She couldn’t do this. It’d caused so many problems. Last night and again this morning, she and Gator had stared at each other like owls at noon, and it shouldn’t be that way. They should be head over heels in love, confident in their relationship, and if she was totally honest—married. She couldn’t run and escape herself. Who she was would always be with her. That thought stopped her cold. Why hadn’t she seen that before? She’d dreamed of being somewhere warm and tropical. But more than any of that, she’d wanted to be someone besides Celia Boyle. She was tired of being single and alone. She wanted . . . wanted . . . him. All this time, she’d thought leaving would make her happy, but she’d found what was best for her at home. She’d found Gator without ever leaving town. The doorknob turned, and he strolled into the room. His head hung, his hair standing on end, he exhaled. His shoulders sagged. “Celia, I found us a place, but . . .” He sank down onto his bed. “It’s all wrong,” he said. “I wanted to give you the best, everything possible. I wanted you to dream about it later and how wonderful it was. What I found, instead, is a single bed in a tiny hotel on a crowded, public beach.” He massaged his neck. “It’s horrible, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t spend our money there. I’ve failed, and I’m sorry.” Her heart squeezed. She approached him, with one palm smoothing his hair. He raised his gaze to hers, pain clear in his eyes. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve been blind and stupid,” she said. “Everything I’ve ever needed is right in front of me.” His brows drew together. “You. All I need is you. If I went by myself and planned the perfect trip. If I stayed in the most expensive room and ate a dozen fine meals but was all alone, it would be meaningless. What I want is seven nights lying in your arms. I want

your skin next to mine. I want you to make love to me on the sand until the sun and the moon and the stars all align.” He gulped. “We’re not ready for those things yet,” she said. “But one day we will be. Until then . . .” She seated herself on his knee. “You could hold me and kiss me and tell me I’m not crazy. That this is real and headed somewhere great.” His smile emerged. “I want to kiss you,” he said. “But if I do it here, I’m not going to stop. I have an idea. I’ve been thinking about all this, and . . . I think we need to go home.” Celia made a shallow breath. “I know. I listened to my sister’s messages.” He didn’t speak, for a moment. “I’m not going to Cincinnati,” he said. “Dad can fire me or keep me on. Either way, I’m staying so I can see you.” A minute ed in silence. “We’ll set it up,” he said. “Everyone at the same place at the same time. You can meet my dad, and I’ll meet your sister. We’ll explain the whole thing.” “The truth,” she said. He nodded. “How crazy I am about you. That we might not be engaged, but I’m not walking away.” He paused. “There’s one thing I want to do before we leave, though. I want to take a side trip tomorrow, a short one, then we’ll fly home.” “A trip?” He reached one hand up into her hair. Trailing his fingers through it, he curled it in his palm. “A trip,” he said. “I think I’ll keep the details to myself if you don’t mind.” “I trust you,” she said. She laid her head on his shoulder. She trusted him completely. Out of all of this, she was sure of that the most.

“Don’t peek.” Gator pressed his fingers over Celia’s eyes and led her forward across the sand. “This is ridiculous,” she said. “I can hear the water.” He chuckled. “Don’t ruin it for me.” She stumbled a few more steps, tripping over her own feet, then, on impulse, he lifted her into his arms. She squealed and wrapped one hand around his neck. At the edge of the water, he set her on her feet. “I figured you ought to see the beach,” he said. “It’s not as cold as I expected, and at least, you can say I brought you here.” She smiled, the wind spreading her skirt outward like a sail. “Though, if you were wearing one of those skimpy swimsuits . . .” he teased. Her laughter carried away on the breeze. “Someday,” she said. She twisted around, looking toward the water. The empty horizon seemed symbolic to him, like a promise for the future. Out there was the spot they’d make memories, and wherever that was, it’d be amazing, Life-changing. He pulled free. “Here, I’ll make it official.” Walking a few feet, he bent over at the waist and wrote Gator + Celia in the sand. He drew a heart around it. Celia laughed. “You’re silly today.” “I’m lighter,” he said. “I have the best woman in the world at my side. Plus . . .” He gathered her back in his arms, and she tipped her face upward. “Plus, there’s this,” he said. Their mouths met, eager, their breaths mingling. He lingered, savoring the taste of her tongue and cheek. “It can’t get any better than this,” she whispered against him.

“You say that now,” he replied, “but it only gets better.” “Mmm.” She made a slight hum under breath and dragged his head back downward. “I’ll be the judge. Do that again.”

There were four vehicles in the driveway: his dad’s, Buck’s, Marianne’s, and Celia’s, which they’d left there when they’d taken off. “Are we ready for this?” Celia asked. He took her hand, running his thumb across the soft flesh on her palm. “Yes. We have nothing to hide.” Knowing that didn’t stop him from being nervous, though. He had to look his family in the eye and it how stupid he was. Even greater, he had to keep them from thinking bad about her. “Let’s go,” she said. They climbed out and walked hand-in-hand up the walk. At the door, he paused to inhale. “Okay, here goes,” he mumbled, building his nerve. The door creaked, and the voices in the living room fell quiet. He drew Celia to his side, one arm around her, and walked into view. Buck nodded his encouragement. At least, he didn’t have to fight with his brother about this. He glanced from his dad to Celia’s sister, Marianne. She and Celia resembled quite a bit, same height, same figure, except Marianne was older and considerably grayer. He focused on her first. “Miss Boyle. I want to apologize for everything. If you’ll give me a moment to explain, I think it’ll all make sense.” Gator looked back at his dad. “I met her at the DMV when I went to renew my license. She asked me to take her away from here; and I don’t know why, but I promised to do it. We traded numbers and talked a lot, and the more we did, the more I could see us there . . . on a beach in the sun.” He paused. “Dad, I knew you wouldn’t approve . . .” He glanced at Marianne. “Celia knew you wouldn’t approve either. But we said we were adults and that didn’t matter. We’d go as friends.” “And the engagement, son?” his dad asked. “That’s my fault,” Celia said. She looked at her sister. “You showed up, and I

didn’t know how to explain him or our plans. When he played along with it, I thought it was no big deal.” “So, you’re not engaged?” Marianne asked. Celia shook her head. “No, but . . .” “But not until we took off did we realize what a mistake we’d made,” Gator said for her. “Not in each other. We’ve grown close.” “Friends?” Buck asked. “Tell the truth, bro.” Gator looked down at her, his heart full. “More than friends. She’s the best person I’ve ever met, and for that reason . . .” He focused on his dad. “I’m not going to Cincinnati. You can fire me if that upsets you, but I refuse to be pawned off on Uncle Ross.” “Pawned off on Uncle Ross?” His dad’s brow rose. “What gave you the idea I was sending you there?” His gaze transferred to his brother. Buck stuck his chin out. “I heard you on the phone, talking to Uncle Ross, and that’s what you said. You meant to send him there.” “When was this?” “Friday, after you sent Gator home.” His dad sighed. “You should have come to me instead of speaking to him behind my back. You have the facts backwards. Uncle Ross asked for some help, and I told him I needed Gator too much and didn’t think he’d want to go. I actually suggested you might be willing. I said you’d done a really good job lately, and I thought you could use the change of scenery.” “Me?” Buck blurted. “But Uncle Ross is . . .” “A kind, generous man, who also offered to sell his half the company back to me. I said, I’d rather he sold it to Gator.” “He’ll sell me his half of the company? That’s . . .” Great. He let the idea settle. “But I can’t afford it, and now with what I owe for the trip . . .” He meant to pay

his brother back. His dad held up one hand, his palm outward. “I’ll pay for it, and you can work it off. It’s a good deal. It makes everyone concerned happy.” “I don’t know what to say,” Gator replied. His dad smiled. “A simple ‘thank you’ will work.” “Thank you, and I . . . I guess I got everything wrong. You, Buck, me and Celia.” “About that . . .” Marianne said. “I didn’t like you going off with her, but it was her choice. Regardless of whether you would have or not, I love her.” Celia detached herself from him and crossed to her sister, hugging her neck. “And I love you.” Marianne patted her back then pushed her to an arm’s length. “If you’d told me the truth, I would have said the best things in life come with time and commitment. That who you are wouldn’t change with a new location.” “I know that now.” Celia glanced over her shoulder at him and, extending one arm, wiggled her fingers. He placed his hand in hers. “Gator and I had three days to talk it over, and I told him the same thing. All I ever need to be happy is in this room, but especially, in the wonderful man who, at the drop of a hat, promised to take me on vacation.” “I’m going do it, too,” Gator said. “Maybe by then your name will be different.” She spun and flung her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “If I can speak?” Gator met his dad’s gaze. “When that happens, I’ll gladly pay for it.” Gator smiled and rested his chin atop her head. “You have a deal.”

The End

LOVE AFTER SNOWFALL

From the back cover: The death of Clementine Button’s husband left her to fend for herself in the wilds of Alaska, and she was doing pretty well until one cold day after the first snowfall when she shot a moose. And a man. Or did she? Because the wound in Ezekiel Knapp’s leg seems all wrong for her gun, and now, his life hangs in the balance. Everything that brought about her husband’s death seems to have come full circle again. Only this time, the last thing she’s going to do is wait and let another man die. Especially not one who in three days has managed to become everything she needs.

CHAPTER 1 The cathedral-like spires of spruce, pine, and hemlock stood tribute to the season’s first snowfall. Shuffling her feet, the girl glanced back at her snowmobile parked on the trail and her dog waiting patiently at its side. “No roamin’ around, Timmy,” she said to the dog. “I’ll be back.” Timmy’s tail wagged, shooting a spray of snow upward with the motion. She returned her gaze forward. She wound her way between the frosted trees over uneven ground toward the opening she’d spotted from the top of the . Half an hour moved by before she reached it, and then huffing and puffing, she halted to survey the landscape. Alaska stretched out before her in its glorious beauty, the natural rise and fall of the mountains pressed against a bleached winter sky. She smiled. She was privileged to be here, to see the last frontier like this. She had Nathan to thank for that because he’d brought her here, shown her how to be self-sufficient. The thought of Nathan made her heart beat painful. She missed him so much. Stuffing her thoughts back in place, she concentrated on the task at hand. That bull moose had been headed this way, should be here any minute, in fact. She readied her rifle, running one hand down the smooth, oiled barrel, and hooked her finger over the trigger. The snap and pop of the low brush confirmed her suspicions. Scanning the space, she sighted one eye along the barrel and spotted the telltale antlers bobbing up and down with the beast’s ponderous steps. One shot, that’s all it’d take, and she could make that easy, had done so many times. The moose strolled along, and she tightened her grip, ready, alert. Her shot rang out between the trees, echoing off the side of the distant mountains, alongside the moose’s squeal. Ecstatic, she tucked the rifle beneath her arm and surged forward. Now came the tedious part, hours of work carving up the carcass, with several trips to retrieve it all. It’d be worth it. She could feed herself the entire winter off this one animal.

She pressed ahead, following the crash of the moose into the distance. But another sound entered her ears—whimpering, thick breathing, and the gasp and grunt of something wounded. Not the moose, for the moose had moved on to die a mile or two away. Her senses awakened, she pushed toward the sound, and stopped solid at the sight, her insides curling into a ball. A man lay prone on the ground, his leg bent at an awkward angle, his skin as pale as the inescapable ice.

“Who are you?” the girl asked. The man looked upward into the face of an attractive girl with flaming red hair. Out of place in this pristine environment. “Ezekiel Knapp, and I’ll ask the same,” he said through gritted teeth, pain rippling across him. “Clementine Button.” “Clementine?” She narrowed her gaze. “My grandmother’s name. I hardly think this is the time to question me on it.” He fell silent. She was angry. But she’d shot him, not the other way around. He raised one palm in surrender just the same. “You had to go and complicate my life,” she said. He blinked up at her. Was she serious? “Complicate your life? You shot me!” She gave a snort. “Shouldn’t have been behind the moose.” “Shouldn’t have been ...” His anger flared. “Look here, Miss Button. I didn’t even know the moose was there, nor did I think some girl would be standing here prepared to kill it.” The pain in his leg flared, and he fell back with a moan. “You’ve complicated it,” she reaffirmed. “Don’t suppose you can explain what you’re doing out here.” He sucked in a shaky breath. What was her problem? She could see he was injured, so why question him now? “Trapping.” He forced the word between his lips. “Trapping?” One eyebrow arched upward. “You must have come quite a ways then. Aren’t any trappers living out here.” “Ten miles,” he grunted.

“On foot? Gees, you’re dumb.” He raised his head and glared at her. “I ... would say ... the same since ...” He held in a groan. “Since you can’t aim.” The curse words that left her mouth were out of place for someone so beautiful. Because despite her anger, she was by far the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. The sun filtered through her hair casting a flame-colored halo around her head. He collapsed on the snow, his gaze frozen on her face. She knelt, bringing the vision closer, and ran one hand over his leg. Poking around the bullet wound, her fingers brushed the hole in his pants. She sat back on her heels. “Ten miles which direction?” He gestured west. “I’m not going that way,” she said. Which meant what? He hadn’t the energy to ask. They were both a long ways from any medical care, and he couldn’t get out of here without her help, so whatever direction she was going would be where he went as well. “I have to get you to the snowmobile,” she said. “You can ride in the sled.” She lifted a clump of snow and pressed it to his wound. “Keep that on it. I’m afraid you’re in for a day of it.” “A day?” he squeaked. He wouldn’t last an hour, much less the rest of the day. At least, it felt that way. She eyed him. “I have to follow the moose. Not letting the wolves get him.” Wolves. The thought of their blood-thirsty jaws made his blood chill. “I’ll take you to my place after. I think I can get the bullet out, but you’ll be off your feet for a few days.” Days? Weeks, more like it. And unable to fend for himself. Great. “You have anything needin’ care at your place?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No.” “Just as well,” she said, standing to her feet. “Because it would’ve starved.” She rested one hand on her hip. “Where’re your things?” He sucked in a breath, working up the energy to respond. “Hundred yards or so,” he said. She stared down at him, and he was struck again by how pretty she was. What was a girl like that doing out here? “I can’t tote you,” she continued. “So I suggest you figure out how to walk.”

Clementine regretted the man’s agony. His leg was obviously hurting badly, given the grimace he wore. She regretted shooting him as well and getting angry for his being where he shouldn’t have been. In all her time here in the remote wilderness, she’d never run into another human being, not without seeking them out. Yet there he was. The fact he was male also upset her, which was, again, unfair. This man didn’t know anything about Nathan and had made no designs on her, was in no position to even try at this point, if he’d thought of it. Something she doubted after their argument earlier. No, he was in for a long recovery, so she’d be a fool to not think this through. In view of the gear she retrieved from the brush, he’d been out here overnight. His pack was full of frozen animal carcasses and leftover bait, so he’d told the truth about trapping. She glanced behind at his still figure in the sled. He was well-clothed. If he’d kept moving, that would explain his walking so far and not freezing to death. But surviving one night was a lot different from surviving two, and it’d take another full day, maybe longer, to return the distance he’d said he’d walked. He lacked some knowledge then. It was just as well she’d shot him before the cold got him. Clementine faced forward and navigated the snow machine through the prepressed tracks. He was probably uncomfortable lying upside all that moose meat. But she had to tote as much as she could. His presence sure had made the trip harder. Timmy, the dumb beast, had taken to the guy. Her round fuzzy head pillowed on his abdomen, she added her canine warmth to the covering tucked around him. The cabin appeared on the horizon, a dot in the fading sunlight. Driving up to the door, she shooed the dog out of the sled and shook the man’s shoulder. He groaned through ice dusted lips. “Mr. Knapp,” she said, speaking short to him. “You’ll have to assist me, or I’ll

be forced to leave you outside.” One of his eyes popped open, a clear, blue pupil reflecting the last of the sun’s rays. He was a handsome man. Not as handsome as Nathan. But good enough to look at that she wouldn’t be repelled for whatever time he was here. Of course, she only had one bed, which presented quite a problem, but she’d work that out somehow. She stooped and lifted him to a sitting position. He was worse now than he’d been immediately after the gunshot, the cold having stiffened his sedentary limbs. His color wasn’t good either. Best thing for him would’ve been for her to come back right away. But there again, she would have lost the moose and both of them would’ve starved. She heaved him upright, and he cried out. She made no apology. After all, it was his fault for being there. His weight bearing hard on her shoulders, she hobbled in the cabin door. Timmy ran in ahead and leaped on the bed. “No, you get down,” Clementine puffed between breaths. She released him at the side of the bed, and he fell back on the mattress, his feet dangling. She plucked his shoes off and swung his legs out in front of him. He lay there, still, lifeless almost, and a tiny twinge of fear crept around her heart. He couldn’t die. Nathan had died and left her alone here. The death of anyone else just wasn’t acceptable. But there again, she had the moose meat to consider. She must store it first and trust Ezekiel to hang in there a bit longer. She wrapped him in several blankets, tucking them around his silent form and headed for the door. “I’ll be back, Mr. Knapp,” she muttered. It was some fifteen minutes before she’d finished stringing it all, the meat being frozen solid and heavy with ice. If not for the pulleys she’d rigged, it’d be impossible for a woman to do. But she wasn’t sharing it with bears or any other wild beast after all this trouble. She reentered the cabin, locking the door behind her, and crossed back over to

Mr. Knapp. Pulling a stool over beside the bed, she peeled back the covers and peered into his wound. Good thing he was out cold because this would hurt. No helping that. But, first, she had to clean the wound and that meant removing his pants. She eyed him. Having seen a man before, this would be no surprise to her. She and Nathan had been wed, after all. But seeing Nathan was vastly different from Mr. Knapp. Chances were Ezekiel wouldn’t like it. She reconsidered. She could remove the pants leg itself. That’d ruin his clothing, but, better decency than death. She’d remind him of that if he asked. Pulling a knife from her pocket, she made a slice through the fabric, then cut in a circular fashion around his leg. She laid the cloth open and proceeded to slice into his long johns. The wound stared up at her from his naked thigh. It was a clean shot, embedded not too deep for her to get to it, but deep enough it’d take a while to heal. Dried blood had sealed much of it off. She rose and moved over to a wood stove in the corner. Stoking the fire, she filled a kettle from a barrel inside the door and set it to boil. She’d need to boil her knife and some rags to prevent infection. Nathan had done this once before when he operated on Timmy. Timmy had gone and gotten her hide stuck with porcupine quills, one buried pretty deep in her rump, and it’d taken both of them holding the dog and a few bites to the fleshy part of her own palm to get them all out. She laid a hand to Ezekiel Knapp’s forehead. He was cold, too cold. She could warm him up; body heat worked best. But the bullet had to come out first. The whistle of the kettle set her to work. Dipping her knife into the scalding liquid, she aimed the point at the wound and carefully pried beneath the bullet. Then sticking her fingers inside the hole, she plucked it out and rolled it over in her palm. She pressed her thumbnail against it. “That ain’t right,” she said. She’d used a two-eighty bullet and this was a thirtyaught-six. That meant she didn’t shoot him. Her brow furrowed of its own accord. And another thing ... wasn’t likely her bullet went through the moose and out the

other side anyway. Possible, but not normal. But if she didn’t shoot him, then someone else did. Someone else. She clutched the bullet in her hand, the uneven edges digging into her flesh. There wasn’t one stranger in these parts, but two; and whoever the other person was— She studied his wound. Inner thigh. Could have come from a random shot. But if someone was shooting at a moose, they’d aimed too low. To kill a moose you wanted to hit the heart or the lungs, the shoulder even. The angle was wrong. They’d done this on purpose. The chatter of Ezekiel Knapp’s teeth and steady tremor in his limbs sped up her work. Swabbing his wound clean, Clementine wrapped it in boiled strips of an old shirt of Nathan’s, then shed her jacket and shoes and climbed in beside him. She wrapped her body around his and tucked the blankets over them both. Timmy hopped up at their feet, circling three times before settling down. She shut her eyes. This was a fine pickle to be in. Nathan gone; a stranger on the loose maybe shooting people down, and her in bed with a man who so far, hated her guts.

Ezekiel awoke to the pale light of dawn and the steady throb of his right leg. Barely conscious, he closed and opened his eyes several times, focusing on his surroundings. The shape and form of the cabin’s log walls entered his mind, followed by the dog at his feet, and lastly, the heavenly spread of red hair extending over his chest. The girl’s cheek was sealed to his arm, her breath blowing in and out at the base of his neck. He swallowed hard, his mind taking hold of her curves fitted against him, her leg hooked through his. He laid his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. How in the world had he ended up like this? Last thing he ed was being somewhere in the wilderness, fastened in her sled, growing colder and colder. He’d convinced himself he was going to die, finally whispering a prayer for God to keep his loved ones safe back home and reg himself to a hole in the ground. He’d certainly never thought to be beneath the sheets with Clementine Button at the end of the day. He smiled crookedly. Her social skills were a bit lacking. Could be living alone out here had done that, which brought up the most obvious question. Why was she living out here alone? Where did a girl like this get the skills to know how to survive in no man’s land? She stirred, but only to nestle tighter against him, and he shut his eyes and draped one arm around her waist. He drifted off again, waking to her movements in the bed. She made to rise, but he snagged her. “Mr. Knapp,” she said. “Kindly unhand me.” “I’m thinking this is the most comfortable I’ve been in weeks, gunshot notwithstanding,” he replied. Her gaze snapped and popped, and he withheld a laugh. If looks could kill. “I have saved your life at the expense of my own dignity. You’ll be on your own to stay warm after this.” “Oh, come now. You have only one bed, and I distinctly how well we fit together.”

This brought her hand upward to his chin. She pinched it hard enough he winced. His hand fell from her side, and she shot up from the bed. “You are lucky I did not use your bullet wound as an example instead,” she said. He was inclined to agree. She seated herself on a stool at the bed’s side and rolled the covers back to view his thigh. He followed her gaze. Only one side of his pants remained. Creative. “You’ll appreciate,” she said, “that I did not remove all your clothing. Our lying together was a simple measure to bring you back to life. I’ve had enough death out here.” He stared at the top of her head. Had enough death. What did that mean? She made no effort to explain, however, but continued with her inspection. “It needs to be cleaned,” she said, “and I expect you’re hungry.” “Worse,” he replied. “I need to relieve myself.” Her face changed then, the first sign of any hesitation flickering across it. It was gone in a flash, the familiar spark lighting her features. “I’ll bring a bucket.” Ezekiel didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that remark. That he’d been reduced to using a bucket was humiliating. That it’d embarrassed her somehow, fulfilling. In the end, he said nothing, but lay back while she fired up the stove and let the dog outside. She disappeared for a time, returning with a metal pail in one hand and a hunk of meat in the other. She extended him the pail, and he reached out, closing his fingers over it. However, she didn’t release it right away. “This is how it’ll go,” she said. He felt a smile rising on his lips. Her grip on the pail tightened. “I’ll fix you breakfast, then I have to go retrieve the rest of the moose. Should take me a couple hours. Seeing as you’re so bright today, I think you’ll be all right in that amount of time. But I’ll leave you a gun, just the same, and the dog. Do not get out of bed.”

He nodded, a chuckle escaping. Her frown extended. “I fail to see what’s funny about this, Mr. Knapp. Someone shot you, and apparently, it wasn’t me.”

CHAPTER 2 “It wasn’t you?” Ezekiel sat up in bed too fast, and the movement sent excruciating pain down his frame. He uttered a mixed oath and fell backwards on the mattress. “You’re ... the one ... who fired.” She turned her back on him and wandered to the stove. “I did not fire the bullet I pulled from your leg. First, it was the wrong caliber. Second, the angle of it would be impossible from where I was standing. Third, my bullet will still be in the moose.” “But I only heard one shot.” Then again, it had echoed. He’d assumed it was one shot. “The mountains multiply the sounds,” she said, confirming his thoughts. The sizzle of frying meat took over the small cabin along with the smell of onions, and his stomach growled. “It seems you have an enemy,” she continued. An enemy? But he’d seen so few people coming here, and none in the last couple weeks. There’d been the pilot that’d flown him in initially and, before that, the couple who ran the store in the nearest town. There was also George, a mixed-race Eskimo who ed by his cabin every now and then. He’d certainly meant no one any harm. Honestly, what was there about him to hate? “Why shoot me in the leg?” he asked. “If whoever did this wanted to kill me, he should’ve aimed for my head or my heart.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Perhaps they have poor aim, unlike myself.” Touché. He’d asked for that. “I owe you a debt for saving my life.” She neither smiled nor frowned. “You owe me nothing. I helped an injured man as I would have expected help for myself.” She lifted two metal plates from a shelf by the stove and set them on a small counter running three feet along the

same wall, then spooned out the breakfast concoction, returning the frying pan to a back burner of the stove. She plucked a fork from a coffee mug. “Can you raise yourself?” she asked. He looked down at his leg. Not after his last attempt at sitting. “Here, then ...” She placed the plate at his side and turned the fork toward his fingers. He took a bite, chewing slowly, his eyes trained on her face. It was quite good, the moose. At least, he assumed it was the moose. “It’s to your satisfaction?” she asked. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “Both the food and the company.” She gave a short nod and went back for her own plate. “Tell me,” he asked her between bites. “Why is a lovely woman like you living here alone?” She’d seated herself at a small table against the far wall and didn’t respond right away, but continued with her meal. He took another bite. After a minute elapsed she set her fork down. “I wasn’t alone. You would like some water?” “Please,” he replied. She dipped him a cup from the barrel and brought it to him. Turning it upward toward his lips, she held the handle while he drank. “Who were you with?” he asked. Why did it matter? She was alone now. For saving his life, he owed her whatever privacy she wanted. She moved back to the table. “His name was Nathan. He was my husband.” Her husband? Startled, Ezekiel halted mid-bite. Her face showed great pain and

sorrow. This really was none of his business. He silenced. He wouldn’t ask. Neither one spoke for quite some time. Having finished his meal, Ezekiel lay back on the cot. “Thank you for the food.” She rose and recaptured his plate. “I’m glad you liked it since we are stuck together.” She started to go, but he reached for her, pulling her short. “Clementine.” She turned her gaze to his, and their eyes settled on each other. “I’m thinking Nathan was a lucky man.” The first hint of a smile appeared on her face. It was only a glimpse, but it was there. She detached herself and wandered over to the wash basin. “He was, Mr. Knapp,” she replied. “He really was.”

Snow began falling on Clementine’s way back to the cabin, effectively covering any trace of whoever may have shot Ezekiel Knapp. Though she’d stopped at the site of the shooting and looked anyway, there’d been nothing to see. The temperature was dipping fast. It’d be much colder tonight than it was last. Not that she was cold last night because she wasn’t. Despite the chill in the air, her face warmed. Ezekiel Knapp had proved a comfortable sleeping companion. Also, a gentleman. He’d teased her about their arrangement, but shown respect and comion about the loss of Nathan, not prying into the story, and she appreciated that. The ground rolled away beneath the snowmobile runners, each snow-laden mile like the last. Truth was, she was tired of being alone. Nathan’s loss had thrown it upon her, forcing her to survive by doing the chores he’d always done. Learning to cope had proved helpful in her grief. It was the evenings that stretched out the longest, hours of quiet with nothing to do but read the same books she’d read a thousand times or their time together—laughter, love-making, the sharing of hopes and dreams. As a result, she’d closed in upon herself and lost the ability to feel. It was easier that way. Probably it had made her short-tempered. She’d certainly snapped at Mr. Knapp well enough. Nathan used to say he liked her fiery spirit, that it made things more exciting. Yet she ed plenty of times, he’d been upset, times they’d clashed and argued. And made up after. She blew out a frosty breath. It did no good to recall those memories. She must concentrate on the very real dangers of the present and the man who’d taken up residence with her. He wasn’t Nathan, and it’d do her best to that. Sight of the cabin came welcome on the horizon. A thin trail of smoke escaped the chimney, dissipating in the snowy air. Parking the sled outside the front door, she unlocked the latch and pushed it open. Ezekiel gazed at her down the barrel of the gun she’d left him. He smiled and lowered it to his lap. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d abandoned me.”

“It was a long way,” she replied. “I have to hang the meat still. But if you’re hungry ...” “Bored,” he said. “Food can wait.” She nodded and reached a hand down to pet the dog. “I’ll return.” Completing her task took the better part of an hour. She brought a portion of meat indoors and laid it in the pan. But no sooner had she begun to cook it, than her house guest interrupted. “Unfortunately, I have to get up,” he said. She brought her gaze to his face. “Nature.” “I’ve brought you the pail.” He hesitated. “Dignity’s a tough thing for a man. If I can stay off the leg, I think I can manage it.” She set the frying pan aside. “The outhouse is too far. But if you wish, I’ll set the pail outside the door and fashion you a crutch.” He nodded. Leaving the cabin, she walked toward a section of trees a couple hundred yards away. She eyed the brush for a suitable limb that might Ezekiel’s weight. He wasn’t a big man. Nathan had been taller, but Ezekiel was perhaps in better shape. She rubbed one hand across her cheek, the remembrance of his body suddenly fresh in her thinking. She should not struggle with this. Nathan was gone, so she broke no rules noticing Mr. Knapp. But then Nathan wasn’t gone very long, and that made her interest guilt-ridden. She shouldn’t want to move on and certainly not with a perfect stranger. Her unruly thoughts having distracted her from her task, she looked up to see she’d walked further than intended. Revolving on one heel, she angled herself

toward a fallen limb that seemed the right structure. But the grunt and chuff of some creature’s breath halted her in place. Bear. She eyed the distance and spotted the brown shape and a pair of beady eyes. Her pulse took up a pace that captured her breaths. She was unarmed, and despite the late season and his bent toward hibernation, he’d be faster. She risked a glance toward the cabin. There wasn’t any option but to make a lot of noise and hope the bear would flee. Raising her arms over her head, she stretched to her tallest and clapped, making a yipping noise at the same time. The bear swung himself left, his head lowered. She repeated the gestures and stepped back. “Go, bear,” she said. Her feet fumbling over the icy ground, she back-peddled further. The bear emerged and rose on powerful hind legs. She shifted her gaze, avoiding any eye that would anger him, then speaking calmly, stepped away one foot at a time. At the edge of the trees, she paused. The bear lowered himself onto his front paws, seeming to contemplate his next action. A noise from behind sent him skittering into the forest. Clementine glanced toward the cabin and the figure leaning on the door post. “Mr. Knapp.” She scampered to his side and wrapped herself around his waist. “I told you to wait.” “Sorry, Clem, but nature’s not waiting.” His voice was throaty and hoarse. “You took too long.” “I encountered a bear, which fortunately decided you were too much of a threat.” Ezekiel gave a short laugh. “Imagine that, ‘cause my leg feels a bit like it’s falling off. If you could get me that pail ...” She released him and reentered the cabin. “Of course.”

***

“You don’t have to sleep down there,” Ezekiel said. Clementine turned her gaze upward. “I’ll be fine.” She nestled harder into the pallet she’d made on the floor, but a steady ache arose in her spine. She gritted her teeth in an attempt to ignore it. “You’re not fine. What’s hurting?” She exhaled and rolled flat. “My back.” He leaned out over the edge of the bed, and his face appeared over her head. “I’m not Nathan.” She chewed on her lip, unspeaking. She’d told herself that already. Hadn’t she? “And I have no designs on you,” he added. “I cannot,” she replied softly. “It’s only us sharing warmth and comfort, Clem. You’re in pain, and I’m in your bed. It’s that simple.” She stared into his eyes, her determination wavering. “Come up here, and let me massage your back.” With a sigh, she pulled herself from the floor. But she hesitated, staring down at the bed space he’d made for her. This was wrong. She shouldn’t. But the floor was far worse. She sat at last, and he brought one hand to her spine. “Whereabouts is it?” “Lower,” she said. His palms took up a gentle knead of her flesh. “Tell me how you injured it.” “My sister and I were playing on the stairs. I was seven.”

“A sister? Older or younger?” “Younger. Annalise.” She shut her eyes and soaked in the rhythmic working of his fingers. He shifted them downward, rolling his knuckles back and forth. “This’d be easier without the shirt,” he said. “Just the tail of it.” She nodded, and he rolled the hem of her shirt upward. The heel of his hand pressed warm on her skin. “So you were playing on the stairs and then what?” “She wouldn’t let me past her, so I tried to force my way but fell. It was a pretty good fall. The house being high off the ground because of the mountains I impacted hard.” “Where was this?” He stopped his massage, and taking hold of her shoulder, tapped her flat onto the bed. She gazed up at him. “North Carolina.” He lowered the blanket over her. “You grew up there?” “Yes.” He tilted his head. “Did she have red hair?” “No. Blonde. My mother’s is red. And to answer your next question, my parents are still alive and still live there.” “Alaska is a long way from home. You came here with Nathan?” She nodded. “He built all this, the cabin, the furniture.” Ezekiel tugged her against him, and she made no protest, but laid her head in the nook created at the base of his throat. “He was talented,” Ezekiel said. “I can see you loved him very much.” She said nothing to that. She had loved him very much. He’d come into her life,

sweeping her off her feet, and she’d followed him to the end of the earth, literally. Anywhere she could go to be near him, to have one more moment with him, she’d been willing to do. But her devotion had killed him. Her eyes burned, and she shut them to prevent crying. However, a tear leaked out anyhow. The swipe of Ezekiel’s thumb flicked them back open. “It’s okay to cry over someone you loved, Clem. I know he should be here and not me, but I’m grateful for what he’s left behind.” She studied this stranger leaning over her. He was a long way from being Nathan. In some ways, he had what Nathan had not—patience, tenderness. Nathan was mostly harsh. Not with her, he’d loved her and treated her kindly, but everything he did had been focused more on what he wanted to accomplish. “Where are you from, Mr. Knapp? Since I have told you mine.” He lay back on his pillow. “Juneau.” Her gaze widened. “Alaska? But you have so little experience.” He laughed. “What makes you say that?” “You were in the woods, ten miles from any shelter. It’s not safe in the winter. You could have frozen.” “Teepees,” he said. “Teepees?” He nodded. “Yes, I have several built along the way. They’re quite warm. An Eskimo named George showed me how.” “So your family lives here?” “No.” He shook his head. “My mom moved to Minnesota with my brother and sister. I stayed behind. Alaska was dad’s heritage, not hers.” “It’s hard being solitary,” she said. He seemed to contemplate that and raised himself onto his elbow again. “I know

I’m not Nathan, but ...” “But what? We are strangers.” “Not anymore and not ever again, I hope.” The warmth of the bed and their mingled bodies calmed the tension battering her mind, and her questioning thoughts eased. “You want me to be him,” he said. Yes, she did, and that was unfair. Ezekiel was his own man, with his own feelings and opinions. It was unfair to compare them like this. “I can accept that,” he continued. “He’s what you’re used to, and now, I’m a substitute.” He brought his face closer. “Tell me, what would he say right now?” “Right now?” she asked. Ezekiel nodded. “What would Nathan call you at this moment?” Clementine considered his question, reaching into her memories for the sound of Nathan’s voice. It came weak, faltering, washed thin by time. “He wouldn’t have spoken at all,” she said, after a minute had ed. “He would have kissed me.” Ezekiel leaned closer. “Then close your eyes and see his face.” She drew her brow tight. “Just do it, Clem.” She obeyed. The sounds grew louder—the pop and crack of the fire in the grate, the swish of snow through the window glass, Timmy’s even breathing at their feet. Ezekiel’s mouth on hers sent a tingle racing up her cheeks. Her own eager response, the parting of her lips, the begging for release, followed by the supple feel of his tongue made her tears fall afresh. Nathan hadn’t kissed her like that, but Ezekiel would have no way of knowing it. His overtures had been bold, like he was, daring. Not sensitive and giving like this.

Ezekiel pulled back and unspeaking, tucked her head to his chest. One of her hands raised, almost involuntary, scooping beneath his shirt to a place in the center. “I’m not Nathan,” he said quietly. No, he wasn’t, and she understood that now. He was different and deserved to be seen on his own . “Who are you then?” she asked. “Ezekiel Knapp. Right now, the luckiest man on the planet.”

Her head bent over his wound, Clementine swabbed Ezekiel’s skin then rewrapped the bandage. “I don’t like the look of it.” His hand on the back of her head turned her face upward. “Meaning what?” “I have nothing here to prevent infection. The nearest town is some twenty miles or more.” His fingers shifted to her cheek. “Do you have a radio?” “No. The battery died long ago.” His face said he wasn’t happy she’d been living here without any means of . Yes, it was foolish, but traveling into town had become more and more of a hardship after living so long alone. He lowered his arm. “I have one.” She pulled the bed covers around his body and made to rise, but the weight of his hand on her sleeve tugged her down. She capitulated and lay back beside him. “My cabin’s only ten miles, and with your snowmobile, we could make it in a day.” “A long day for you.” He’d risen twice, once yesterday and once that morning. Both times he’d collapsed afterward, his skin washed of color and his breathing erratic. “I can do it.” She rolled onto her side, her back facing him. “Then what? They take you away.” He rose up on his elbow. “Why, Clem, I’m starting to think you like me.” She pulled away with a huff. Scooping her hair off her neck, he pressed his lips at the base. The warmth of the gesture swept through her, a tingle going down to her toes.

“I like you fine enough,” she replied. He tipped her face back around with his fingers. “How long have you been out here by yourself?” She moistened her lips, and his gaze followed the motion of it. “A little over a year.” “A year?” His brow creased. She nodded. “And you’ve seen no one in that time?” “I am self-sufficient, Mr. Knapp.” An excuse. Being self-sufficient physically had handicapped her emotionally. The thought of people and crowds, cities, terrified her. She’d become that way living here with Nathan. He’d handled any transactions that required travel, often leaving her behind for days. He and Timmy had been her only companions. “You are not self-sufficient. People need people, something you’ve proven to me in the last day.” “I need no one. I will take you to your cabin and return here.” An odd ache formed in her gut at her own words, but she quelled it. She’d gotten too soft, Ezekiel Knapp’s affections working on her in an unseemly manner. It would pay to remain unattached. She’d see he had medical care and go on with her existence. “You will not return here,” he said. “I know we’ve had only the last day together, but I like you, Clem. I refuse to walk away.” “You will not be walking away,” she returned, motioning at his leg. He made a face. “Carried away. Flying away. The transport is not the issue. I don’t wish to become a man with one leg, but I don’t wish to become a man without Clementine Button either.”

“Psh.” She made a sound and spun away from him again. “Spoken like a woman who only needs a little convincing,” he said. “If your convincing involves any use of your mouth, then forget it.” He laughed and one hand on her shoulder, flipped her flat. “Now, which use of my mouth are we speaking of?” A spark lit in his eyes and danced there. “The same one Nathan used to shut me up,” she returned. He leaned closer, bringing his lips to hers. “Nathan was a smart man. I’m beginning to see why he kept you here all to himself.” “If you kiss me ...” she began. She meant it as a warning, but the twitch of the corner of his mouth said he took it differently. “What if I make you a promise?” he asked. “I’m a man of my word.” She said nothing. Faithfulness had to be proven, and though some part of her liked him, he’d yet to demonstrate that to her. “Come with me, Clem. I won’t leave you. I promise.” “You aren’t in a position to leave me,” she said. “And how can you promise me something you have no power over? There is nothing between us. If I come with you, then I’m what? Your companion? I hardly think we should share a bed together out there.” He took hold of her hand and folded it in his. “What if I give you everything that’s Ezekiel Knapp?” She drew her brow into a v. What did he mean by that? “What if we go to the city together and get married?” She drew back. “Married? I hardly know you.” She wriggled upright, but he once again pulled her back. “Hear me out,” he said. “You don’t want to be alone, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share my life with.”

“It’s ridiculous.” She struggled against him. “Unhand me, Mr. Knapp.” His palm to her chest prevented her from rising. “It’s Ezekiel. Stop calling me mister. And stop fighting against something we both want.” She stilled. “Is that how Nathan did it?” he asked. “He came into your life and whisked you away? I’ve said I’m not him. So you should see I have no intention of leaving you behind, on this planet or the next.” Her hand struck his cheek with a thwack. He stared at her unmoved. “Go ahead. Be angry at me. Then get over it and consent to be my wife.” She chewed on her lip, her gaze on the handprint newly formed on his skin. Where Nathan had been driven, Ezekiel was tenacious. She’d always been able to convince Nathan to let her have her way. He’d dispute with her at first, thick brows drawn tight, but relent in the end. “We’ll go to your cabin and call for help,” she said, measuring her words. “But you have not convinced me to the rest.” He lowered his face to hers. “Give me time, Clem, because convincing is something I do really well.” With that, he captured her lips, and she sailed away on the strength of it. Who was this man? And why was she so powerless in front of him?

CHAPTER 3 The sky was clear and bright, and the air tremendously cold. It promised to be a good day for travel, but an uncomfortable one that night. Clementine turned her footsteps toward the suspended moose meat. There were many things that needed doing before they left. They must eat, then pack clothing and emergency supplies, also, cooking utensils. It paid to be prepared. She’d been foolish to stay here and risk infection in his leg. The streaking around the wound was a sure sign things had turned worse. It was perhaps equally foolish, to consent to take him west, though according to him, it was closer. Traveling to town would be safer and more familiar. She should put her foot down and refuse. She snorted. Like he’d listen. All morning he’d rattled her thoughts with his kisses, and it had worked. Lying there, pressed up against him, she’d entertained his proposal for a minute or more. He’d read her right. She didn’t want to be left behind, but neither did she want to leave and live in the city. Having someone in the cabin with her again had taken her back to life with Nathan, the feeling she’d had of her and him against the world. Her footsteps lifted the new powder snow into a fine spray. it it, Clementine, that’s not all you . No, it wasn’t. Vivid dreams of Nathan’s lovemaking had returned, only they were mixed in with Ezekiel’s face. She shouldn’t think such. This was a man she’d rescued only two days ago. She couldn’t possibly have grown attached to him in two days. She’d take him to his cabin, call for help, and return home. Any upset she felt by his removal from her life she’d simply have to get over. She couldn’t have everything she wanted. She’d learned that with Nathan. She’d given up things for him, too. Her family, for one. Leaving North Carolina to move to Alaska had been huge, and now, she’d not spoken to any of them in over five years. Five long years. She missed her sister and her mom and dad. She missed the green mountainsides, sweeping farm valleys, and rocky streams. There was so much life there, a beauty much different from Alaska.

She’d given up communication, for another. Five years in this cabin, on this property, barely speaking to another person besides Nathan had changed her from the outgoing twenty-year-old Nathan had fallen in love with to the solitary woman she was now. She needed no one to survive. Every day, she told herself that. Approaching the meat, she slowed and raised her gaze. But in lifting it, her eyes fell on a pattern in the snow. Her heartbeat sped in her chest. “What’s this?” Crouching on her heels, she laid the span of her hand in the impression of a man’s boots, a bigger man than Ezekiel Knapp. She scanned the path of the prints away from the cabin and into the distant trees. They were hours old. Whoever this was had come during the night. The meat. Standing back to her feet, she shuffled forward and uttered an oath. He’d stolen an entire leg quarter! One oath was followed by two, her anger flaring. She’d worked hard for this moose, and this man had cut into her winter supplies without any thought. She removed her knife and flicked open the blade, stabbing the meat. She cut a portion and settled it in her sack. Stolen what wasn’t his and not knocked at the door. This thought bothered her. Why wouldn’t he knock? There was no one else this distance out, and she’d have provided warmth and shelter without giving it any thought. He was a traveler then, another trapper, or someone on a mission. He must have not had time to pause. She dismissed it. She shouldn’t begrudge him food. Once Ezekiel was gone, she’d have enough to survive. Providing whoever had come last night didn’t return again. She slung her sack over her arm and clutched her rifle. She’d come prepared this time against the bear, though most likely it was gone. Perhaps she should remain prepared against the intruder as well. Trudging back toward the cabin, her thoughts moved inside. She’d be glad to be done with Mr. Knapp. He was becoming a real problem in her mind, one easily

enough removed once she made this trip. Two days, maybe a third, tops, and she’d go back to being Clementine Button, the wife of deceased, Nathan Button, who’d loved her. But not enough to live for.

“Are you comfortable?” Ezekiel looked up at Clementine from his position in the sled. Maybe he was crazy to have mentioned marriage, but it seemed like the perfect solution. She was as afraid of abandonment as she was of leaving the small world she lived in, and he could help her with both. “If you include lying upside this hunk of moose meat, then I’m fine.” She made her characteristic cross between a scowl and a pout. “We will need the meat.” “And the frying pan and the bear grease and ...” The other thirty supplies. “Mr. Knapp ...” She cut him off, then seemed to make an effort to relax, lowering her voice. “Ezekiel, there are always unforeseen circumstances out here, and though the snowmobile has served me well, it is an old machine.” This brought a question to mind. “Where have you gotten gasoline all this time?” he asked. She nodded her head toward barrels at the side of the cabin. “Nathan had enough to last us two years. I’ve used half of it.” He eyed her. “What would you have done when you ran out?” She ignored his question, calling the dog. “Up, Timmy.” Timmy climbed in beside him, wrapping herself around his feet. Either Clementine had no plan, which was probably the case, or the one she had was weak. He laid back, his view for the next few hours destined to be the sky and the trees. Clementine’s boots crunched over the snow to the side of the snowmobile, and the sound of the motor drowned out any further possibility of talk. He settled back as best he could for the long ride. It was smooth for quite a ways, and warm enough. She’d bundled him even more than before, and the dog provided steady heat. He drifted off for a bit and awoke to the skid of the runners, the swish of the snow, and an ache in his backside.

The sled could use more padding. She slowed to a crawl then came to a halt. Her face looking down at him brought a smile to his lips. “A lovely sight.” She frowned. “I did not stop for compliments.” He laughed. For all her crustiness, Clementine had a soft side that was intensely appealing, and sleeping beside her for two nights now, though he wasn’t conscious much during the first one, had given him thoughts he’d dismissed from his life. Kissing her was pleasurable, and, if not for his injury, not where he had wanted to stop each time. He was a man who’d lived alone for several years after all. Nevertheless, the words of his mother kept pounding in his head. A woman’s a man’s best thing, and he should respect that, put a ring on her finger. That was as much behind his proposal as anything else. In his heart, in the deepest place, he knew he’d never find another woman like her. Frivolous, fragile females did not appeal to him at all. He had no use for parties, fancy clothing, or expensive living, and here was a woman who was anti all those things. She could shoot a moose and slaughter it, chop her own firewood, do any of the numerous chores it took to live in the wilds of Alaska without giving them much thought. Physically, she needed no one. However, there the comparison ended. Mentally, she did, and she wasn’t about to it that. “I do not like wondering what goes through your brain,” she said. His smile widened. “I would tell you, but you’d dump me out of the sled.” He twisted his head to see around the area, but the wooden sides she’d fashioned were too high. “Why are we stopped?” “Direction. You need to tell me which way to your cabin.” She circled behind him and with her hands beneath his shoulders, shoved him upright. He gave a groan. Stupid leg. He turned his eyes to the area around them and nodded his head to the side. “That way, directly west. You’ll cross the river at some point.” He brought his gaze to her face, now inverted over his. “We should check my traps while we’re

here.” “Check your traps?” “Right. Why not? We’re near the run of them, and it’ll save me losing whatever’s been caught.” “I did not bring you this far to check traps.” He chuckled. “Come, now, Clem. You’re a practical woman, whatever’s in the traps is money, and money’s scarce out here.” She pushed him back down in the sled and tucked the covering around him. “It will delay us, and it’s important you get to help.” He stared up at her. Something in the way she’d said that was wrong. She thought too much, and it would be her downfall if she didn’t stop. He raised a hand and snatched hold of her wrist. She scowled at him. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Whatever’s going through that pretty head of yours, tell yourself you’re wrong.” “There is nothing going through my head right now but continuing on our way,” she replied, detaching herself. He fell back in the sled, and the vision of her disappeared. The snowmobile cranked again. Continuing on their way so she could run from him. The truth rose up inside. But she was wrong; there was no way he was leaving without her. One way or another, his future was tied to hers. She simply had no idea how stubborn he would be about it.

Their troubles began mid-afternoon. Checking the traps had definitely delayed them, but she’d done it anyhow because he was right, there was money to be made, and if he would be gone from the area, then whatever was in them would go to waste. Checking them, however, meant altering their course due west and following the river for quite some time. Therefore, when it finally came time to cross, they weren’t at a location she would have chosen. She’d crossed the river before. During the winter, it was mostly frozen, but below the snow there’d sometimes be pockets of water that had escaped the ice. You never knew where they were, and so at any time ran the risk of getting stuck. Getting stuck was not in her plans. The more the day wore on, the more she wanted to rid herself of Ezekiel and all the feelings he created in her. With him gone, she’d be free of the desires and longings he’d uncovered and could relegate such weakness back to where it belonged—in the past. He had taught her one thing though. She’d have to plan better for her future, make the trip to town for supplies, and acquire more of what she’d need for safety measures. Clementine halted the sled on the bank of the river and scanned the far bank. There really wasn’t any way to know how strong the ice was here except to risk it. Gripping the handlebars she revved the gas and started the trek across. But nearing the other side, the snowmobile’s treads sank up to the frame. She shot out an oath. It was as she’d thought. “What is it?” Ezekiel asked. She glanced back at him. “Overflow.” The slushy mix of snow and water flowing over the ice had effectively wedged the machine in tight. She dismounted, her feet sinking into the mix, and eyed the predicament. “I’ll have to unhook the sled to get us out.” Unhooking the sled first required removing Ezekiel from it. This proved difficult because over the hours, he’d gotten stiff. And heavy. Her arm around his shoulders, she hefted him upright best she could. He uttered a series of grunts

and moans, then their corporate efforts failing, fell down flat on the snowy bank. His face was uncommonly pale. She patted his cheek. “Should be only a moment.” But after shifting the sled and dragging it onto solid ground, the snowmobile remained as stuck as ever. She seated herself at his side, raising his head in her lap. “What is it?” he asked with chattering teeth. “We won’t be getting there today.” “No?” He was amazingly calm, considering. “No,” she said. “The ice will have to freeze for me to get it out, so we’ll make camp here, build a fire. Let’s get you more comfortable.” She rose from the ground, pillowing his head on some of the covering from the back of the sled, and trudged away from the bank. Selecting a location beneath the trees, she scraped the snow down to the hardened turf and formed a bed of scattered spruce branches. She lined this with the emergency bedding she’d insisted they bring and returned to Ezekiel. He was shivering now, his body visibly shaking. “Come,” she said. “Give me your arms, and I’ll drag you.” Not the easiest task, but he’d be unable to walk that far. It was a good twenty minutes before he was situated in place. She wrapped him tight, up to his neck in the blankets, and moved to make a fire. It paid to always be prepared. He’d made fun of her supplies, but she’d learned it was better to carry what you didn’t need than to find yourself without it. This only proved her point. They could both die out here in the cold if not for her forethought. Nathan had preached that at her. You never have enough, he’d always say.

The fire spit higher, its red-orange flames consuming the branches she’d formed into a cone. She collected a portion of the meat and set it in the frying pan over the heat. Yet once the food was cooked, Ezekiel wasn’t inclined to eat it. “I’m sorry, Clem. I’m not feeling so hot. I don’t suppose I can trouble you for companionship?” She nodded and, feeding his portion to the dog, crawled beneath the covers to his side. She curled them both tight in the blankets. “You make things worthwhile,” he said. She had her doubts about that. “Tell me a story, anything to take my mind off this.” Her cheek pillowed on his arm, she exhaled. “I’m not good at storytelling.” He gave a pained laugh. “No, I expect not, but do your best.” “What would you like to hear? I have only my own memories to share.” “Tell me about your wedding.” She glanced up at him. His eyes were closed. “I hardly think ...” “I want to picture you as a bride,” he said, interrupting her. Why? For his own benefit? Asking was on the tip of her tongue, but she buried it. What did it matter if that was the case? She had no intention of taking him up on his proposal. In another day or so, they’d be separated, and he’d have only what she’d said to her by. Plus, he was in obvious pain, so she’d be providing a needed distraction. She shut her own eyelids and thought back to that day. “It was outdoors.” “No church?” he asked.

“No, though the minster was from a local congregation. He was a friend of my father’s and had agreed to do the ceremony.” “So you didn’t attend any place?” “We were never religious.” This seemed like a simple statement, but evidently, it sparked something in him. “It isn’t about religion, Clem. It’s about your heart.” He laid his palm against her chest. “Right in here. I never went much either. Hard to when there’s nowhere to go. But I believe God watches over us. I believe he brought you and me together.” “Fate?” she asked. His hand caressed her neck, resting along the slope of it. “Not fate. That implies it was random. I was thinking more deliberately planned. God wanted me and you together.” Not likely. Why would He? She kept these thoughts to herself. What Ezekiel believed was fine for him. “So ... not in a church.” He returned to the story. “No, in the yard behind my parents’ house. It was early summer, and the daylilies were in bloom. They grow wild there along the roadsides.” “You had a wedding dress?” “My mother’s dress. She wanted me to wear it.” He exhaled, his breathing ragged. “I’ll bet you were gorgeous with that crown of hair.” He lifted a lock in his hand. “I love your hair.” Nathan used to say the same. It’s like having the sun in my hands, he’d tell her, and she’d felt flattered to have it appreciated for once and not made fun of. Kids at school were cruel, and she’d suffered plenty of humiliation, as if being born with red hair was a curse.

“Was it up or down?” “Up.” Ezekiel’s hands slid upward to her cheek. “I can picture that. I’ll bet he wanted you all to himself right then.” She didn’t respond. “I would have.” “I hardly think that’s decent to say,” she replied. “Who’s going to hear it? You’re a beautiful woman. I saw that right after I thought you shot me. And here we’ve been keeping each other warm at night, I can tell it, too.” It went both ways. Nathan had been bulky, broad in the shoulders and stout at the waist. Ezekiel was much leaner, the shape of his body somehow the perfect fit for hers. She shouldn’t have noticed that, but it’d been hard not to. “What are you thinking about, Clem?” he asked. “That it will be cold tonight, and all this talk is wasting energy.” He brought his hand behind her head and turned her face upward. The press of his lips came as no surprise, nor the reach of his tongue. No, the surprise was her welcome to it. How, in the face of Nathan’s memory, with talk of their wedding, could she kiss another man like that? She was unfaithful. She was setting aside all he meant to her for the ion of someone else. She pulled back. “Stop. Please. I can’t.” “Sure, you can,” he said. “It’s wrong.” “What would he have wanted you to do? Shrivel up and die out here?” She twisted her face away. “You didn’t know him at all. He was a jealous man. He would have killed you for this.”

She exaggerated. He would’ve been unhappy, inclined to fight maybe, but not violent. “That’s because he had the best wife, and I don’t fault him for that. I can imagine what he was thinking on your wedding day, you coming across the lawn toward him. I am a man, Clem.” “You are not Nathan Button.” He laughed. “I told you that. He sought to isolate you, keep you to himself. The fact he brought you out here tells me that. He didn’t even want your family to know where you were.” Her stomach twisted. He was more right than he knew. I’ll have your face looking at only me for the rest of our days, he’d said on their wedding night. Then he’d taken what he wanted and left her lying there, bereft. She’d loved him, but been unsatisfied. “I’m different,” Ezekiel said, breaking into her thoughts. “I don’t want to steal you away. I want to teach you how to live. There’s so much more out there than this. I love Alaska, and I come here in the winters. But I go home after. I visit my family. What do you think yours is wondering about you?” “If they’ll ever see me again,” she said. Her mom had taken her aside after their wedding. Nathan is a good man, but I’m thinking you’ll be gone from here forever. I’ll pray for you, my sweet daughter, that you’ll find in him what you’re seeking, and someday, I’ll see you again. “Wouldn’t you like to go back? Aren’t you tired of being alone?” She huffed. “I’m tired of you fostering dreams in me I cannot have. I am happy here. Can’t you see that?” “What I see,” he replied. “What I know when you kiss me is how much more you want to have.” “You are a dreamer,” she said.

He shook his head. “No, I’m a man falling in love with a woman who’s everything I’ll ever need. My question is, when will she see that?”

CHAPTER 4 Ezekiel had plenty of time to think the next morning, Clementine having gone down to the river to hack the snowmobile out of the ice. She left him warm and comfortable enough, though the bed she’d made was empty without her in it. Unfortunately, knowledge of that caused his mind to wander. He allowed it, picturing her in ways he should not, more to avoid the numbness that had crept into his leg and fend off the worry. But soon, two hours having crept by, a chill entered, one not from the snow or the cold air, but from far within his core, and it consumed his flesh. His hands shook, and his legs trembled. Shivering violently, he tried to still his body, tucking his hands beneath his head. His fear rose to a new height. He couldn’t die. His loss would send her into a spiral she’d never get out of. For her, he had to live. But he had to live for himself as well because to go unfulfilled, to leave this world without having known the love he’d begun to have for her, was unthinkable. He’d never expected to find love in the wilds of Alaska, miles from anywhere. He’d always figured one day it would drop into his lap, but more civilized and requiring him to give up more—his forays across the ice for months in the winter, his need for solitude sometimes. No female would ever want to accompany him through that. He’d prepared his thoughts to give up his freedom, resettle, for her sake, and put it all in the past. Yet here was a woman who satisfied his heart, one who could subsist on the barest essentials. They needed each other. She’d never grieved for her spouse. Whatever had happened to Nathan Button, she blamed herself for it. Living alone out here was as much some form of punishment as it was penance. She thought to continue his dream. Perhaps, her husband would have liked that. Seemed like from her words, he was an intensely selfish man, one who thought only of what he wanted and not so much of her. Because he’d damaged her. He’d made her the ascetic she was. She’d deny herself any pleasure at all to somehow prove to the memory of Nathan Button she was all the things he’d wanted her to be. When all she needed to be was herself.

His shivering ceased, and the chill inside took over. Ezekiel stared outward barely aware she’d returned or that her hands were on his cheeks or her tears dripping on his chest. “Do not die on me,” she cried. “Do not die on me. I lost one man. I’ll not lose another.” He motioned with his mouth, his lips forming words that stuck to his tongue. Then he shut his eyes and faded away.

Clementine wept, her mind returning to a place she’d prevented it from going for these many months. Nathan’s bedside, his eyes sightless at the ceiling, his hands stiffened into claws that dug at the air, and her response – screaming, frantic to raise him back up. But it wasn’t to be, and soon, the task of burying his body fell on her alone. She’d fashioned a travois from a bit of canvas and two stout poles, shifted him onto it, and dragged him away from the house, two hundred yards or more. She’d had nothing to say over him once he was laid in the hole, and no emotion left from exhaustion. It wasn’t until later, staring at his empty plate, which she’d absentmindedly set like always, that she’d fallen apart. And relived it. And relived it. Ezekiel Knapp being in almost the same state was too much to bear. If he died, then so did she. For no matter how wrong it was, no matter how disrespectful of Nathan’s memory, no matter how he’d fallen into her path, crawled into her bed, kissed her lips, he was embedded in her heart deeper than Nathan had ever been. What a fool she was to think she could turn him loose and walk away, return to the barest existence with no one to talk to but Timmy. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She’d have him beside her, beneath her, above her, around her. She would give herself to him in whatever state he chose. She grasped his collar, her tears frosted on her cheeks, and shook him back and forth. “Don’t you die on me, Mr. Knapp. I didn’t come this far to let you go. The snowmobile is out; I’ve hitched up the sled; and we’ve only a few hours to ride to get there. Due west. Then help will come. Do you hear me?” His eyes snapped back open, and his tongue flicked over his lips. He breathed out the faintest whisper of words. “You ... love ... me.” She backed away, her hair dancing along his cheeks, and then lowered her mouth to his. He was cold, his skin wintry. “Promise me you’ll not die. Promise me.” And she waited, her heart in her throat, for his response. “I ... promise ....”

Blackened poles stuck at awkward angles in the midst of a field of ashes. Her insides growing frosty, Clementine stared at the remains of Ezekiel’s cabin, visually picking out the few items that hadn’t been destroyed – a cook pan, the hull of the wood stove. There was no evidence of the radio. Wandering across the space, she kicked the toe of her boot at the ground for any sign of what had happened and stopped sharp at a print burnt into the remains of the doorway. She crouched and laid her hand inside. Same size. Same pattern as what she’d seen outside her place. She sniffed the air. Gasoline. Someone had set this fire. Ezekiel had been trapping for a couple days before he’d met her. Whoever shot him could have burnt his cabin and caught up, but only if they were experienced enough at tracking. Even for an experienced tracker it would be a hard hike over terrain that could kill the best of men. That meant this was deliberate. Someone was after Ezekiel Knapp. Why? He’d given no indication he had any enemies here and had behaved with her as a peaceful man. Which brought to mind another thought. They hadn’t killed him, but injured him instead. Why wait until he was away from home to do that? She headed back toward the sled. None of that mattered right now because he needed help, and she wouldn’t find it here. This meant more delay, more time without his receiving medical care, and him in an already tenuous state of health. She knelt down beside the sled, taking hold of his hand. “We’ve got to go further,” she said. “Find somewhere indoors and warm tonight. There’s nothing left here.” She’d not stop until they found shelter or she ran out of gas. She kept that to herself. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. Ezekiel had to be made warm. The cold would be too much for him. She buried her fear and remounted the snowmobile. Each mile appeared the same as the last, an infinite ice-covered wasteland with

no sign of anything or anyone. Come late afternoon, her fear returned. What if there was no one to find? What if she wasted her time and he died? Once again, it’d be her fault. She could have saved Nathan, but she’d refused to go for help. I can handle it, she’d told him, though he’d protested again and again. Fool woman. Take the dog and go. But she’d wanted to prove something, prove she was all the things he’d asked her to be. Clementine slowed and glanced behind. There was nothing left to prove this time. Ezekiel had already shown her what weaknesses were. Faced with his presence, his demands, she’d given in, just like she had with Nathan. Come with me to Alaska, he’d said. She’d stared into his eyes, contemplating his grand words. And protested. Alaska? But Nathan, that’s so far. It’s where I want to be, and if you love me ... The memory faded. She turned her gaze forward to an opening in the trees and swerved the snowmobile left in an arc. The opening spread wider toward a frozen pond surrounded by beaver-gnawed tree trunks. She dismounted and tested the ice, walking out a few feet. A shape on the opposite side caught her eye. Pointed, wrapped in canvas. “Teepees.” Her heart pounding in her chest, she returned to the snowmobile and drove out onto the pond. She crossed it in minutes and pulled up outside the cone-shaped home. It’d bring warmth. A fire inside would heat the walls, and she could warm him and buy some time. She set to work, shifting him off the sled and through the door. Weariness pulled at her small body. He was more and more difficult to handle as he grew sicker.

Hauling him inside, she made him a bed and wrapped him tight, pausing only long enough to capture her breath and a last thread of energy before exiting to gather wood for a fire. A curl of smoke whisking out the flap overhead, she collapsed at last, lying beside him and nodding off. She awakened hours later, the glow of the fire low and Ezekiel’s breath blowing on her neck. She peeled herself away to restock the flames, then uncovered him and checked his leg. The infection was worse, and his skin scalding. He needed some form of nourishment, but was most likely past consuming solid food. She’d make a broth. Melting snow in an iron pot, she dropped in a portion of meat and a few bones and set them to simmer, then dug out a bowl and sat it at the edge of the flames. Ezekiel’s cough spun her around. He stared up at her. “Clem.” She dropped to his side, her hand on his cheek. “Thought maybe I was dead and this was heaven, seeing you here.” She scowled. “I’m hardly fit for heaven, and you promised not to die.” His face became a grimace. “Working ... on that ...” “I’m making you some broth,” she said. “It’s important to get nourishment in you.” He nodded and looked past her at the teepee. “Where’s ... where’s the cabin? We didn’t reach it?” The cabin. She’d known he wasn’t conscious when she’d spoken earlier. “We got there,” she said, “but it was gone. Someone burnt it to the ground.” “Burnt? But ...” “It was on purpose,” she added. He silenced.

“Who is after you? Why would they burn your cabin and chase so far to shoot you in the leg?” He exhaled. “There was a story I heard when I first built there.” He paused to gather himself. “Story said someone had buried gold there years ago. George ...” He gave a loud grunt. “George? The man who told you about teepees?” He nodded, his cheek scrubbing the bedding. “This one’s his.” She glanced around the circular walls. It was snug and appeared to be well-built. “Lie with me, Clem.” She curled herself beneath the blankets at his side, her face turned toward his. He brushed her lips with his own. “Does me good to feel you there,” he whispered. She wrapped an arm about him. “Did I imagine it, or did you cry over me?” he asked. “It was a weak moment. I ... I thought you were dying.” He laughed softly, the sound pleasing to her ears, but strained in his throat with evident pain. “I don’t see what’s funny about that,” she replied. “Nathan died, and I was left here with no one.” Ezekiel clutched her hands between them. “Tell me what happened. I want to know.” She closed her eyes, tears welling upward. She could no longer keep it to herself. He wanted to know, and he deserved to know. The truth fell out. “I shot him.”

Ezekiel sucked in a faltering breath. “You ... you did?” Unexpected. He’d pictured her husband’s death in many ways, mostly illness, but never injury and not at her hands. She was so capable now. She bobbed her head, and a sob escaped. “In the chest. I was green and didn’t have good aim, but thought to impress him. I didn’t know he’d gone that direction. I heard the noise in the bushes and fired.” Her sob became a wail. “Don’t die, Nathan. Please, don’t die. I didn’t mean to. I wanted to be what you’ve asked of me. I wanted to learn.” “Shhh ...” Ezekiel made the sound and laid his palm on the back of her head. “It’s me, Ezekiel, not Nathan, and I’m alive.” She flipped her face upward and grasped at his cheeks, drawing their mouths together. Her hunger was evident in the motion, and desperation, and grief. She moved her lips to his cheeks. “I love you,” she said. “I love you.” But what of that was for Nathan and what was for him? He kept his question inside. She stilled at last, her fingers clutching at him. “He lived only one day afterward. I should have gone for help, but didn’t. I was too afraid to see people again, too embarrassed by my failure. You’re right. I’m a fool. I’ve lived out here alone to be what he wanted of me.” “You don’t have to do that anymore. Marry me, Clem, like I asked.” Her kiss this time was tender. She buried her face in his chest. “Is this why God brought us together?” “I think sometimes ...” Ezekiel began. “Sometimes God sees two people’s hearts and knows how they’ll match. Kind of like puzzle pieces. I used to do these great, big puzzles with my mom. She’d do the same scenes over and over again, and sometimes, after so many attempts, they’d turn up missing a piece. That bugged her to no end, so she’d carve one out of paper and position it inside. But, you know, it was never really as right as the piece that was supposed to be there.”

Clementine clutched at him, her hands wound in the fabric of his shirt, as if he’d fade from view otherwise. “I think me and you are supposed to be,” he said, “and God knew that.” “What of Nathan?” she asked. “Nathan made you who you are, and I have no regrets about that. I fell in love with the girl who could shoot a moose and carve it up while toting around a man shot in the leg.” “Is this love?” He brought her face toward his. “How did you feel when you knew you loved Nathan?” Her forehead wrinkled. “Giddy. Outside of myself.” “And now?” She ran a finger over his jaw and across his lips. “Like a satisfaction only you can fill. People don’t fall in love in three days.” She rushed the last sentence, her cheeks pink. “Sure, they do when God’s put them together.” She bit her lip, a facial gesture that made her appear so much younger, like a girl, afraid to speak before the class. “Answer my question,” he said. “I keep asking but receive no answer.” She exhaled, the rush of heat from her breath warming his cheeks. “You are a persistent man, Ezekiel Knapp.” He grinned. “My mom used to tell me that.” “She’s right. I’ll make you a promise, since you’ve made one to me.” Clementine curled her arms between them, her fingers curved into fists. “Just as soon as we reach a hospital and the doctor says you’re recovering, I’ll agree.” A delay then. It wouldn’t change his feelings for her. He couldn’t marry her

anyway until he was physically able. No way was he spending his wedding night in a hospital bed. His mouth turned up, her words sinking in further. “You’re going with me,” he said. She ducked her face. “Anywhere you go even to the end of the earth.” Her devotion wound around his heart. Was that what Nathan had fostered? That kind of subservient, self-effacing sacrifice? “Clem, look at me,” he said. She brought her gaze up. “You’ve got it all wrong.” Worry lines appeared at the corners of her eyes. “It’s not anywhere I go you must follow, but anywhere you are I have to be. I’m half a man without you and nowhere at all.”

Her eyes dark, the simmer in her gut sparking, Clementine shot out of the teepee into the frosted air. “Clem, come back,” Ezekiel shouted. For all his fine words, all the things he’d said to win her heart, this was too much. “Clem.” She walked to the edge of the pond, the ice crunching beneath her shoes. But he was right and that hurt the most. He was no longer able to travel, and she couldn’t shift him anyway. He’d stay warm and alive here, but over time, the infection would eat away on the inside. She had to leave, go for help on her own. She stared at the remains of a beaver mound. This water would be unfit to drink in the spring. Beavers carried disease with them. Disease that moved about unseen like the poison in Ezekiel’s leg. “Clem.” His voice was faint with the distance. He’d drank the broth well enough, complaining about their lack of salt, then come at her out of left field with this craziness. She turned around and gazed southwest. She could get there in a day, but not return. That meant leaving him overnight, a thought which terrified her. The fire could go out. His weakness could return. A thousand things could go wrong. But she simply couldn’t do nothing like she had with Nathan. This time she had to leave. There wasn’t any choice. She stared up at the sky, her thoughts turning toward all Ezekiel had said about God. If they were true and God had brought them together, then perhaps God would keep him safe as well. She could pray. But what were the right words to give? She had no understanding of prayer past the one she used to say as a child. Surely, God wasn’t deaf, and if she spoke from her heart, He’d hear her. Unless He was busy. But seems like then He wouldn’t be God. God would make time to listen. She shivered in the frosty air and dug deep within.

“I lost Nathan through my own stupidity,” she said. “I’ll not lose Ezekiel, too. I think you won’t send me a third man to love, so if it’s just as well, I’ll keep this one.” The wind gave a soul-screeching lament in return. “You’d do best to keep him warm and alive until I return. Thank you.” With that, she traced her steps back to the teepee. Crawling inside, she faced Ezekiel on his pallet. “I’ve said my prayer on your behalf. I’ll leave at first light. God help me if anything goes wrong.” Ezekiel stretched out a hand his fingers dusting the tips of hers. “That gives me hours to feel you at my side. Come.” She shed her jacket and curled herself against him.

CHAPTER 5 Her kisses drying on his cheeks, Ezekiel laid back, the emptiness of the teepee swallowing him. He took hold of a long piece of wood and prodded the fire, emotion clogging his throat. Two days was a long time to be alone, a long time to occupy his mind and ward off thoughts of death. Because he felt it creeping ever closer. Twice, before she’d brought him here he’d thought he was gone for good, and twice, she’d kept him alive. Now, there was only himself to consider, and he was insufficient to the task. For all his words to her, his encouragement of God’s plans for them to be together, he was in reality so small and defenseless. Ezekiel whistled and Timmy returned, her nose frosted with snow. He scratched her behind the ears, and she gave a contented wag. “Too bad you can’t talk to me, girl,” he said. “I could use the distraction.” At least, she was something warm and alive to hold onto. Timmy sniffed the dish at his side, and he dug in and drew her out a bite. “Can’t let you have too much of that, or we’ll both be hungry before tomorrow ends.” Timmy gulped down the morsel and poked at his hand with her snout. He shoved her away. “No, now, that’s enough. We’ll have more later.” Later, when Clementine would still be far away and headed in the opposite direction. He blew out a puff of air. “Waiting stinks.” Loneliness stunk as well, and he couldn’t live like that anymore. There was nothing irable left of solitude. He’d built his cabin to embrace it. A man only needs himself, he’d said. But look at Clem. She’d lived alone and become someone she didn’t want to be. Solitude in itself was a selfish thing. The very idea you didn’t need anyone was

you proclaiming you needed only yourself. A lie. What would have happened if she hadn’t found him? He’d been miles from her cabin, in a place he’d had no knowledge of and mostly likely, wouldn’t have found. If he would have survived, it would have been by tenacity and after days traveling on a bad leg. Days that someone could use to, what? Burn down his cabin? Was it because of the story of gold? That tale had seemed far-fetched the first time he’d heard it. Yet it could be somebody believed it. People up here were inherently superstitious. Taking this to the point of threatening his life was extreme, however. Ezekiel covered the bowls of pre-prepared food and shut his eyes. Best thing to do was sleep. Except the tiredness that gripped him now he couldn’t seem to shake. No matter how much he rested, he was just as drained as before. He had to believe it was temporary, that Clementine would make it there and back by tomorrow evening. Otherwise, he might as well crawl out in the snow and freeze death. It’d be infinitely quicker than the slow, painful death facing him now.

Clementine kept her mind off of Ezekiel and instead, on reaching the homestead he’d told her about. Big place. Up on stilts. Lot of cleared land. Couple named Paulson. He’d only met them once, but they’d seemed nice. She eyed her gas gauge, the needle sinking ever lower. She hadn’t told him about the state of the gas. Carrying him and the supplies they needed hadn’t left much room for cans, and she’d used what little she’d brought already. If he died because she broke down on the way— She cast the thought aside. She wouldn’t go there, think that. The day wound past and the light faded. The snowmobile sputtered, the engine gasping for fuel. She urged it further, blind to her surroundings, the image of Ezekiel bright in her face. But the machine choked and died just the same. She pounded on the handlebars, curses flying from her lips, then raised her gaze. The soft yellow light of an immense cabin glowed on the horizon, only ten minutes’ walk or more. A miracle. She climbed off and set her gaze for it, walking over the thick drifts. A dog barked at her presence and then another. The front door swung open. “May I help you?” Gripping the wooden stair railing, she climbed onto the front porch. A couple in their mid-fifties peered out at her, the man stroking a thick, gray beard. “Name’s Clementine Button,” she said. “I’ve come to get help for Ezekiel Knapp.” “Ezekiel Knapp?” the woman asked, her voice doubtful. “You . That feller who bought the land northeast of here,” explained her husband. “You’re Mr. and Mrs. Paulson?” Clementine asked.

The man nodded. “Please, come in. It’s too cold to stay out there tonight.” The warmth of the cabin and homey atmosphere halted Clementine inside the door. She took in the comfortable surroundings, a pair of well-loved chairs set before a roaring fire, and sighed. “Sit,” Mrs. Paulson said. “I’ll fix you some coffee.” With a nod, Clementine lowered herself into a chair, guilt pecking at her. Ezekiel was out there alone, and here she was, safe and protected. “What’s this about Ezekiel Knapp needin’ help?” asked Mr. Paulson. “I wasn’t aware he had a lady friend with him.” Clementine focused on his kind face. “He didn’t. I live a good distance to the east. I was out shooting moose and found him in the snow. He’d been shot.” “Shot?” Mr. Paulson’s expression widened with surprise. “Is he ...” “Alive, but barely. I kept him with me for a day, but his leg has grown worse. I didn’t have a working radio, so he convinced me to go to his cabin, as it was closer. But on arriving, I found it burnt to the ground.” “Burnt to the ground?” This came from Mrs. Paulson. She’d returned with a mug of coffee and pressed it into Clementine’s hands. Clementine took a sip. “Yes, and deliberate.” She paused. Should she tell them about the footprints? Mr. Paulson leaned forward in his chair. “It’s the gold. Someone’s always thinking it’s on that land and trying to dig it up. I haven’t seen anyone come by here recently though.” “Miss Button, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Paulson asked. Clementine nodded. “Where is Ezekiel? You said he needed help?” Clementine sat the coffee on the table in front of her and stared at the light

reflected in its dark depths. “He needs medical care. Infection has set into his leg, and he’s too weak to walk. I left him in a teepee he said belonged to George. I must get back. I ...” “You can’t go tonight,” Mr. Paulson interrupted. “Beverly, fetch the radio, and we’ll call.” His wife scooted from the room. “But the weather’s picking up, and I suspect they won’t be able to fly in tonight,” Mr. Paulson added. “I must leave in the morning,” Clementine said. “I have to be off at daylight. If you have some fuel?” “Of course,” Mr. Paulson said. “But we can’t let you go there alone, so I’ll follow and bring medical supplies. Between the two of us, we can do what we need until help arrives.” He leaned back in his chair and waved at the coffee. “Drink up. You look like you could use it.” Clementine obeyed, her thoughts whirling, and her need to share about the footprints returned. Perhaps Mr. Paulson would have some insight. “I saw footprints,” she said. Mr. Paulson looked across at her, his eyebrows raised. “Footprints?” “Outside my place. Then, on a piece of charred wood at his.” “And you think they’re related to his injury? I wouldn’t think they’d be from the same man,” he replied. “Not that far apart. Unless we’re talking days travel?” “Six, so far,” she replied, “and they’re the same pattern. Man’s boots, larger than the span of my hand.” “The gold,” Mr. Paulson said. “Best I bring a gun. You have one?” “Yes.” Her stomach twisted. She’d wanted to leave it with Ezekiel, but he’d insisted. You only brought one, and you might need it. I can’t fire the thing laying here

like this. Can’t fire, and him out there defenseless. If anything happened to him while she was gone— She reached for her coffee and hid her flushed face behind the mug.

Ezekiel awakened to the sound of footsteps crossing the snow and minutes later, stared through the crack in the teepee entrance at what were large, male boots. He wrapped one hand around Timmy’s neck, her growl vibrating through his fingertips. “Hello?” he called. The boots shifted and a face appeared in the entrance, well-lined, dark-skinned, native. “George?” The Eskimo nodded. “What have you done with yourself, Zeek?” he asked. “Someone played target practice with me.” George crawled inside and seated himself. He prodded at the fire, sending sparks whirling into the air. “You’re not here alone.” “No. My friend, she went for help.” “She?” George’s lips split into a grin. “You have a woman?” Ezekiel lay back on the pallet. “A beautiful woman, tough as nails. She’s saved me twice. I ... I’m glad to see you though. My leg ...” George lifted the blanket and ran his hand around the wound. “You will lose your leg.” “I hope not. She’ll be back. She’ll find someone.” George’s shoulders stiffened, and he lowered the blanket. “There is no one to find.” “Yeah, there is,” Ezekiel insisted. “The Paulsons. She’ll be on her way back by now. Trust me. No one’s more determined to save me than she is. She’ll succeed.” Timmy’s growl returned, her fur rising on end, and Ezekiel wrapped a hand around her muzzle. “Guess the dog doesn’t like Eskimos,” he said with a laugh.

George dug in his pocket and produced a knife. Flicking open the blade, he stabbed it into the ground. Ezekiel stared at the buried point, his stomach lurching. George had some odd ways about him, once again the result of a lot of solitude, as well as his native beliefs. But he’d been very helpful when he’d first moved out here, shown him how to survive, and helped him build his place. “You hungry? She left me some moose.” Ezekiel motioned toward the bowl with his chin. George raised the bowl to his nose and sniffed. “Is good,” he said. He dipped his fingers in and proceeded to take what remained. A hand clenched Ezekiel’s gut. “Hold up there, friend,” he said, his voice shaky. “Leave some for the sick man.” George lowered the empty bowl, his face growing hard. “You won’t need it.”

Sight of Timmy in the path brought Clementine to a halt. Rear end wagging, a whine in her throat, the dog bounded her way and threw snowy paws to her chest. She hugged her snout and patted her neck. “Where is he, girl?” she asked. If only the dog could talk. They had a mile or more to go yet. Timmy had wandered far to be here. Anticipation building, Clementine shooed the dog away and started back forward, Mr. Paulson, who’d paused behind, continuing in her wake. Snow swirled about them in the gusty wind. The weather had indeed turned worse, blowing blizzard-like all night and into the early dawn. Mr. Paulson had made them hold off for longer than she’d liked, though she understood why. It was a long way to go in such conditions, and if not for the state of Ezekiel’s health, she would have agreed to wait. They were nice people, friendly, accommodating, and seemingly as concerned as she was. But with Ezekiel’s life on her mind, she’d pushed to leave until Mr. Paulson had agreed. Timmy disappeared somewhere in the landscape, though her bark announced she was keeping pace. Clementine concentrated on the snow tracks in front of her. It was far longer than she liked before seeing the teepee on the horizon, and nervousness built in her heart. He’d promised to stay alive, had said her prayers would work. Now, here she was and she’d brought help. Mr. Paulson had a radio, flares, and medicines. It would be all right. Emotion rising, she parked outside the teepee and rushed around to the entrance. Footprints just outside pulled her up short. She knelt and laid her hand in them. He’d come. The man after Ezekiel. Thrusting herself inside the teepee, she gave a cry. “No ... No. No. No.” She pushed at the empty bedding, her fingers digging in the cloth as if he would be there still, then whirled and poked at a silent, cold fire pit. Crawling back out, she stared down at the lines in the snow again, lines that obscured the further they traveled into the distance, and met Mr. Paulson’s eye.

“He’s taken him,” she said. “I must go.” Mr. Paulson reached for her, his aged fingers curving around her arm. But she shook him off, and eyes to the ground, shouldered her rifle and tracked the trail. Given the weather, they hadn’t been gone long. That meant he’d made it until morning. Given the weather, the pair of them can’t have gone far, especially with Ezekiel not able to walk on his own. Ezekiel wouldn’t die. He’d promised her God had brought them together, and God knew no one else but her could rescue him from this danger. God knew no one else would try so hard or push so far. No one else would love him like she did. The trail wound between the trees, the barest trace, and stopped at the edge of a frozen stream. She stared at the green ice, then across at the opposite side, and a figure arose. Tall, broad-shouldered, wrapped in a heavy fur coat, he dragged something behind him. She must get ahead and cut the man off. She eyed the path and moved left, over the stream, up the far bank, and around a section of bushes rimed with ice. Walking lightly, she sped up her pace, hooking around the man and pressing to the base of a tree. Raising the gun, she aimed at the stranger between his eyes and called out. “Stop.” The man paused, and his gaze met hers. “Let him go,” she said. Laughter burst from the man’s lips. “I know you,” he said. “Nathan Button’s mysterious wife.” Shaken, her grip slipped on the weapon. She scrambled to readjust the gun. “Nathan is dead. I killed him,” she said. The man’s laughter died. “You?” “Yes,” she said. “But Ezekiel’s death will be on your hands, not mine.” “And my death?” he asked. “You will shoot me?”

“And leave you for the wolves.” The man released the burden he’d been holding and laid a hand to his waist. “Hands up,” she snapped. He halted. Stepping out from behind the tree, she approached him. “What if he’s already dead?” the man asked, his hands aloft. “What if I only seek a place to bury him?” “Then I will bury you together.” His lips curved into a smile. “Nathan talked about you. He said his Clementine was ‘something else.’ That’s the way he used to say it. ‘Something else.’” “You didn’t believe him?” she asked. He wagged his head. “Oh, I did, yes. Just like I believe you’ll shoot me before this is over. So why don’t you do it now?” She aimed for his heart. “I want to know why first. Why did you shoot Ezekiel out there and not here? Why did you burn down his cabin? For gold?” The man made a noise in his throat. “The gold is a story. I do not chase after stories. Ezekiel had served his purpose to me, and I was done with him. This land is sacred, and it is mine. He had no right to build here.” “But you helped him.” “He helped me. We built a network of traps together and many teepees. More than I could do alone. He put me ahead, but threatened to stay and take what was rightfully mine. So I sent him to you.” She lifted her head from the gun, though her hands stayed in place. “Sent him to me?” “It was inevitable, your paths crossing. But you weren’t supposed to come back this way. I figured you’d go east.” Anger simmered in her gut. “You shot him in the leg to put him with me.”

The man nodded. “However, I counted on too much, and then again, not enough because I see I was wrong. Nathan’s wife is tougher than he knew.” “Wh-what does that mean?” she asked. “He used to say without him you’d run home. ‘My Clementine can’t survive without me.’ You’ve proved him wrong.” He waved his hands. “Here I am, shoot me. Shoo ...” A shot rang out and the man’s eyes widened, his mouth falling slack. In a measured, almost sluggish manner, he crumpled to his knees and fell face down in the snow. Clementine looked past him into the eyes of Mr. Paulson. A cry escaped her lips, and tossing her gun down, she threw herself at Ezekiel’s side. He was cold and stiff, his breathing shallow. “No,” she said, clutching his face. “Do not die on me. Do you hear me, Ezekiel Knapp? We have a wedding to plan, family to see. You promised me. You promised.” She bent her head to his and pressed their lips together. “Live,” she whispered. “Live. For me.”

CHAPTER 6 It was a similar scene in a different setting. He lay in bed, half-clothed, Clementine’s hair spread over his chest. Only this bed was in a well-furnished room full of hospital equipment, and instead of lying at his side, she draped her head over him from her seat in a chair. He stared past her at his leg and wiggled his toes. Painful, but still attached. And it hit him, a two-ton weight. She was here, in town at his side. He swallowed the lump in his throat and brought a hand to her face. Sweeping her hair aside, he caressed her cheek with his thumb. Her eyelids flickered, and she inhaled a sleep-laden breath. “Good morning,” he said. He had no idea if it was morning, afternoon, or evening, but his voice brought her upright. She clutched at him, her fingers wound in the bed cover. “You didn’t die,” she said. He smiled at her. “No. You saved me again.” “It was Mr. Paulson,” she said. “He shot the Eskimo.” The Eskimo. George. Ezekiel’s hand dropped to the bed. “Half-Eskimo. His dad was white.” Her brow wrinkled. “He said it was his land, and you were on it.” Nodding, Ezekiel looked away. “He always fancied himself more than he was, but I figured he was proud of his heritage. Plus, he was helpful to me.” “He said you were helpful to him, and he was through with you.” Ezekiel winced. “He said that?” “Yes. But he didn’t want to kill you, so he waited until we were close together then took advantage of the situation, shooting you where I’d find you. He

thought we’d go east, not west.” “So he burnt the cabin ...” “To clear the land,” she said. “He didn’t believe in the gold.” “That’s a shame,” Ezekiel said. “Because I have a secret.” Her hands relaxed and he captured one in his, folding their fingers together. “But, first, say you’ll marry me.” A smile rose on her face brighter than the sun, and he sucked in a shaky breath. “You are so beautiful. Make me the happiest man on the planet.” “I have one condition,” she replied. He drew her toward him, her face inches from his. “Name it.” “I want to go home.” “Done.” “Now for your secret.” He smiled and backed up an inch. “Where’d you get the clothes?” She’d changed, bathed, and an empty plate at her side said she’d been fed. “The church,” she said. “When they brought you in, a Pastor and his wife were visiting folks. They talked with me; we prayed together, and I told them, you were the man God had brought to me.” “You said that?” he asked. Clementine nodded. “So does that mean ...” Her lips curved upward, and she gave a short nod. “I will marry you, Ezekiel Knapp.” He grinned, feeling more like a silly boy than an adult.

“Now, the secret.” Unable to wipe the smile from his face, he tugged her to his side. She climbed into bed and wrapped herself around him, mashing her cheek to his chest. He ran one hand through her hair. “I found the gold.” She craned her neck back, her eyes wide. “You found it?” His smile grew wider, near splitting his face. “When I built the place. And I took it to town and put it in the bank. It’s a nice nest egg, which will take us anywhere we need to go.” “But ...” Her voice trailed away. “But what? Aren’t you happy?” She laid her face flat again. “I’m happy, but I don’t understand why if you had so much money you’d stay and trap. You took unnecessary risks, and ...” “Clem, look at me.” She twisted her head around. “It brought me to you. Isn’t that enough?” She lifted her mouth to his and silenced him with the moisture of her lips and the heat of her breath. Longing in his heart until, drunk on love, the room spun. She pulled back and nestled her face against him. “It’s enough. I love you, Ezekiel Knapp.” “And I ...” he began, his heart lighter than air. “Love you.”

The thick darkness of night was lit only by fireflies, which pulsed and danced past the window. Yet Clementine’s eyes were only for Ezekiel and his only on her. He hovered over her, his weight an anchor to her soul, a comfort to her heart, a fire racing along her limbs. She curved to him, giving herself fully to his every embrace, and sailed out over the verdant mountains, her breath escaping into the night air. She fell back spent after, the ring on her finger imprinted against his chest, a never-ending bond signifying their unity to each other. “Mama likes you,” she said. She felt his smile in the darkness with the shape of his lips over hers. “I like her, too,” he replied. “You’re like her, you know.” “Oh? How’s that?” “Well, the hair, for one.” He twined his fingers through her locks. “Your faces, for another. Her surprise at seeing you was much like your surprise at finding me in the snow.” Clementine laughed, once. “She did seem angry. And then to hear I was married to someone, who wasn’t Nathan ...” “I can see where you get your temper,” he said. “But she came around.” “Yes, she did.” Clementine paused. “Annalise is married. I can’t believe it, and I missed the whole thing. But I her husband from our youth. He’s nice. I like him. However, I have a confession to make ...” She let her voice trail away. “Does this involve all the secrecy the two of you had earlier?” “Mmm. Sisters are like that.” She’d missed her sister and found their reunion like picking up where she’d left off. As much as she’d loved Nathan, he’d taken that from her.

A cricket beneath the window sill creaked loudly in the room. “So?” Ezekiel asked. “What’s this confession?” “We made a bet.” A girlish giggle rose in her chest and escaped. His hand sought her face and traced itself down her neck. “Does it involve me?” he asked. “Mmm, yes. Us.” “Let me guess,” he said. “We’re going hunting together.” She curved her face into his chest, muffling her laughter. “That depends on the game.” “Deer? You shot a moose once.” “Twice. I shot two moose.” She spoke frank. “Okay, so two moose.” “And not a deer,” she added. He grabbed hold of her and lifted her atop him. “Turkeys?” “No, though I’d like to go in the fall.” “Then we will,” he said. “Will you miss it?” Her hair did pirouettes around his face. “Alaska?” she asked. “Will you?” “I will always miss it in some fashion, but anywhere you are is home for me,” he replied. “Except we have to visit Minnesota or my family will explode. They can’t believe I married and never told them. Now ...” He curved his hands in the small of her back. “Answer my question, then tell me what you and your sister have cooked up.” Her laughter returned. She fell against him. “I will miss it some, like you said. I’d like to go back one day, to visit, but ... and this involves what happens next ...”

He nuzzled at her neck, and she stretched her hands out on the bed. “But I want to take our children.” His hand on her face, he turned her gaze to his. “Did you just say children?” She bobbed her head. “That’s the bet. Whoever gets pregnant first.” His laughter ed hers and reformed itself in her gasp, as he laid his mouth to her throat. “We’d better keep trying then,” he said, his lips wandering along her skin. “If you want to win ...” The End

SOAPED

From the back cover: Caught up in a world of make believe, soap opera star Sloane Krieger has forgotten who she really is. What the world sees in her television character, a lying, cheating, hateful woman, is what she’s become. When up-and-coming actor, Noah Lee, is hired as her love interest, she finds in him, after hours, something she’s forgotten she could be – herself. But the hardest part of her life is yet to come, and the one thing she needs to fall in love just might be the one thing she can’t quite accept. Forgiveness.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that WHOSOEVER believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life (Jn 3:16, author’s emphasis).

CHAPTER 1 “You slept with her? You, Trace Hampton are a liar, a cheat, and I ... I ... I hate you!” Her face red with the force of her words, Sloane Krieger spat her hatred through pink-glossed lips. “Beautiful, Sloane. That’s perfect.” Leaning back in his chair, the director twisted around at the waist. “Where’s Noah?” He jabbed one finger in the direction of a slender girl in blue jeans and a black t-shirt. “Go fetch Mr. Lee.” The girl ran off like a shot. He returned his gaze forward. “Do it just like that, sweetheart, then follow up with the slap. We have a new Trace Hampton today. Isn’t he lucky?” A chuckle escaped and faded. Sloane sank down onto the set couch, and immediately, a makeup artist appeared, dusting her cheeks with powder. She closed her eyes in submission. Minutes later, the artist gone, she found herself face to face with a six-foot-one, bare-chested male who had definitely spent his time at the gym. “Noah Lee,” he said, offering his hand. She smiled, weak, and rose. “Sloane Krieger.” “I’ve heard. Guess I’m the bad guy today. Really should have kept the pants zipped.” “Places!” the director shouted, interrupting. “Let’s get this scene done. I have an avocado calling me.” Noah’s eyebrow arched, then calming, he backed to an arm’s length, an angry expression rising on his countenance. “Action.” He leaned in. “That’s right, babe. While you were schmoozing with Eleanor over iced lattes, Caitlin and I were heating the sheets.”

“You slept with her?” Sloane lifted her hand, fingers pressed tight. “You, Trace Hampton, are a liar, a cheat, and I ... I ... I hate you.” Swinging her arm, she brought it in with Noah’s cheek, the sound echoing on the set. “Cut. Awesome. Tomorrow, Sloane, you and Noah have make-up sex. Be here bright and early with bells on.” “Oh boy.” At that comment, Sloane glanced across at the new hire. He was cute, but that wouldn’t make tomorrow’s scene less awkward. She and Ricky had the chemistry down for the characters. He knew how to push her during intimate scenes yet was totally professional. With this new guy, there was no telling how it’d come out. He might be great, or he might make things difficult. And she wasn’t sure she could take anything in her life being more difficult. “Won’t that be fun?” he asked, as if reading her thoughts. She offered what she hoped looked like a friendly smile and turned her steps for the dressing room. He skipped to catch up. “Hey ... I just wanted to say, I’m excited about playing the part. Maybe you hear that a lot.” Pausing in the crowded hallway, she met his gaze. He had nice eyes, a gentle brown, almost golden in color. “On occasion, but I understand,” she said. “You work hard to get a part, any part, and the fact you finally have one is worth celebrating. Listen, I have to get out of this dress before I reenact the Bride’s Revenge episode.” “Oh, sure thing.” He stepped back, and she returned her hurried pace toward the dressing room. Slipping in and shutting the door, she unzipped the dress, allowing it to flutter to the floor, then reached for her black slacks. Her blouse was midway over her shoulders when the door swung open again. “You are the luckiest girl on the planet.” Tossing herself down on a stool, her friend, Rosy, gripped the nearby vanity table with one hand. “That newbie is ten kinds of yum.”

“Noah?” “Is that his name?” Sloane nodded. Adjusting the shoulders of her blouse, she reached toward her ear and unclasped a silver hoop. “He’s taking Ricky’s spot. Seems nice. Too eager, but the new ones always are. I’m more worried about tomorrow’s scene.” “You’re doing the dirty with him? Oh, how I want your job.” Brushing her fiery red hair off her shoulders, Rosy straightened. Sloane smiled and unfastened the other hoop, dropping it beside the first on the vanity counter. “You say that until you’ve acted the same one two dozen times. Trust me, it loses its thrill.” “I don’t believe you, refuse to believe you.” Stuffing her toes in a pair of ballet flats, Sloane hooked her purse over her shoulder. “I’m pooped, going to go home and fall into bed.” “No ...” Rosy whined. “Us girls are going out, and we wanted you to come along. If Sloane Krieger graces our table, we’ll have way better luck finding an overnight.” Sloane patted her friend’s cheek. “Rosy doesn’t need an overnight.” “I’m not an amoral woman, I just play one on TV,” Rosy returned. “Exactly. And look at how super my life is.” Rosy hopped to her feet. “Honey, your life is not super. You come to work, play your part, and go home ... alone. What’s ‘all right’ about that?” “The fact I’m not single and pregnant ... or sad and divorced. I don’t need a man to make me happy.” Rosy rolled her eyes. Opening the door, she waved Sloane through and into the hall. “You only say that because you have no idea what happiness is.” Rosy’s words echoing in her brain, Sloane left her behind and headed for the

exit. Her mind on peace and quiet and not acting, she dashed out the doors, her head ducked toward her purse ... and careened into a firm male chest. “Whoa. Sorry.” Noah gripped her shoulders, steadying her, and she reversed, apologetic. “No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t watching.” He released her, and freed, she looked past him at the parking lot, counting the usual vehicles. “You waiting on someone?” He could have parked out back. The lot was always crowded. He shook his head. “The opposite. Contemplating how I’ll get home.” Sloane leaned her weight on one hip, her hand curving at her waist. “You don’t have a car?” “Starving artist thing,” he replied. “Had someone drop me off this morning.” “They can’t come get you?” Running his hands through his hair, he sighed. “No, he’s doing two shifts today on the other side of town. I could call a driver, I guess. Except there’s my cash problem again. Plus, I forgot my cell anyway.” Sloane eyed him for a moment. Not having transportation sounded careless, but then, stuff happened sometimes, and she shouldn’t judge. She moistened her lips and debated on what to say. Walking away seemed cruel. “I guess ... I could give you a ride.” If Noah noticed her hesitation, he didn’t show it. His face brightened. “You can? I mean, you will? Hey, that’s super, and I appreciate it.” Doubts skimmed through her brain. She hated getting involved with the others, especially newbies. Having offered to take him, though, she couldn’t back out. She waved him after her, and Noah climbed in her small red compact, folding his long legs into the seat. She cranked and waved at the security guard on their way

through the gate. An uneasy silence formed. She searched for a way to break it. “So, how’d you get the part?” she asked. “Casting call. I was one of the millions who wanted to play your love interest.” His words brought a faltering smile to her lips. “I doubt there are millions. There are millions of females who want to scratch my eyes out.” “Never understood that,” Noah returned. “Girls getting so involved with fictional characters. I mean, do they realize you’re not real?” Sloane pinched herself. “I feel real.” His expression softened. “Sorry about that. Acting I’m good at. Everyday speech, not so much.” She didn’t comment, but her curiosity rose. It’d be easier to act their parts if they knew more about each other. She and Ricky had had years together to learn each other’s quirks. “You had to have had some experience for them to consider you.” They’d made such a big deal about choosing Ricky’s replacement and justifiably so. Leaning back, Noah folded his hands across his chest. “The typical high school drama stuff and some acting in college. That gave me the bug. I left home, my second year ... much to my parents’ horror ... to come here and ‘live the dream’ instead.” “They don’t you?” He wouldn’t be the first. Young actors were a dime a dozen in Hollywood, all incredibly eager with stars in their eyes. Most, suffered huge disappointment. Add to that, his not finishing college, and his folks would be unhappy. Noah tossed his head. “They’re convinced television today is corrupting lives.” Strangely, he didn’t seem upset at that statement. “They’ll hate the soap,” she replied. “You’re not worried they’ll see you in it?

After all, tomorrow ...” Would throw him into the flames, face first. Not the type of scene most wanted to do right away. Noah’s gaze grew deep, the weight of it warming her cheeks. “They don’t watch TV past the evening news and religious programming,” he said. “I’m the rebel.” “Ah.” “Seriously though,” he continued, “they love me, but think I’d have done better to stick with college.” “Should you have?” He sighed. “I’ve asked myself that a lot since I came here, especially when I was doing horrible bit parts ... or commercials for men’s hair products. After my onethousandth bag of ramen, I started to doubt myself.” “But?” Flipping her blinker, Sloane made a right onto the main highway. “You have to tell me where I’m going.” “Oh.” He sat up taller. “I’m on Vincent, the apartment complex at the end.” “Vincent? That’s ...” A long way from here. She bit back her complaint. “Yeah, but it’s cheap. And to answer your question ... I started to doubt but heard about this part and was encouraged to apply. I only hope I can get it right. I don’t want to put you out when you’re so used to the other guy.” She didn’t reply right away. She’d felt that already—put out. It sounded snotty. She’d been at the bottom once, eating noodles every night, smiling for the commercials. Of course, she’d wanted to do something besides soap operas. Find real work, her mom had said. Why you want to be known as a trashy woman I do not understand. Her reply was always the same ... it paid the bills.

“We all want to succeed,” Sloane said, at last, “and it sounds like my mom isn’t much more ive than your parents. She had no problem with the acting, but thought I’d be bigger, do blockbuster films. Instead I’m known for being angry and always in bed with someone.” She felt the weight of his stare again, and the irony of their lives struck her. She was his ticket to stardom, yet she’d trade it in for something more meaningful. Rosy was right. She wasn’t all that happy. They fell silent, and she aimed for the opposite side of town. The long road in front of them grew eerie in the rising dusk. Her headlights cutting a path, she shivered. “Miles of nothing,” Noah said. “Back home, I find that nice. But out here, it’s ... unnatural.” No sooner had he spoken than the engine coughed and died. Lifting her foot from the gas, Sloane eyed the gauges, now gone dark. Noah leaned across. “Your electric’s out.” Turning her wheel, she coasted to a stop in the shaggy grass. “It can’t be.” He returned upright. “It’s going to require a mechanic.” Blowing a frustrated breath, she stretched for her purse and dug out her cell. She tapped the screen, but it didn’t light up. “No!” “No?” She raised her gaze. “My phone is dead.” This didn’t happen in real life. “Dead? That means we’re ...” “Stuck.” Noah gazed at her then out the window. “‘They say if you talk about this road, it’ll eat you alive.’” He pitched his voice low for the quote. “Think of it ...” he

continued, “a couple lost on a lonely road with no help in sight. After hours of walking, they stumble upon a motel where they’re forced to sleep together.” She widened her eyes. “You’ve watched the soap?” That episode had played two seasons ago. “I am a huge Eternal Flare fan,” Noah replied. “I’ve seen everything you’ve done, back when you thought you were the daughter of Molly and Caswald.” “That was the worst,” she replied. “They made me wear this awful bracelet ... one of those medical alert ones ... but this one was cheap, and it turned green on my arm. I was weeks getting rid of it. Makeup had to cover it every morning.” “I was glad when Trace got you out of there.” “Swept me off my feet and saved me from the lions’ den.” “Too bad you and he have it so rocky now. But it’s really his fault. I’ve never subscribed to the whole men-can-sleep-around mentality. I guess it makes for good ratings on TV, but not so much for life. Is it true Holly had an affair with Leo, or was that my imagination?” Sloane smiled. “Are you going to spread rumors?” Turning his hands palm upward, Noah spread his fingers. “To who? I’m in a dead car on a long, dark road without a phone.” Sloane dragged her gaze upward. “We really do have to get out of this somehow, and I can’t see but one way.” “Walk,” Noah supplied. “Yeah, I’d reached that conclusion myself, and I really do think there’s a motel a few miles up. We can actually rent a room, though you can have your own if you prefer.” “We’ll share,” she said. “And I’ll pay. I don’t like the idea of being out here by myself. At least, I’m with you.” “That’s almost sweet.” He pushed the door open. Sloane followed behind, snagging her purse on the

way out. She depressed the lock on her key fob, but no sound came. “The doors won’t lock.” “No, not with the electric out.” Noah waved one hand toward the car. “It’ll be all right. We’ll come back for it tomorrow.” The fact he’d said “we” entered her brain, but she dismissed it. Striking out along the pavement, she kept at his side. His being here was comforting. The thought this could have happened with her being alone was too scary to contemplate for long. People recognized her all the time, and some of them were uber-weird. Last thing she needed was to be stranded and bumming a ride off some crazy fan. “What I want to know ...” Noah said, minutes later. “Do we get to have wild sex at the end of this?” She smiled despite her fears. “Not tonight. Tomorrow.” He sighed. “I watch too much TV.”

Several miles down the road, Sloane began to lag, limping on her right foot. The heels she wore were not good walking gear, though this had been unplanned and that couldn’t be prevented. Without pause, Noah lifted her into his arms. She squeaked, wrapping one arm around his neck, then sighed and settled against him. He was struck by the contrasts in her. He knew her solely from onscreen and the vivacious character she played. She was way more down-to-earth. She also held a lot of things inside, or it seemed that way. “You can’t carry me all the way there.” He trained his gaze on the hotel in the distance. “Sure, I can. I have brothers.” “Brothers?” Noah steadied his steps, his shoes crunching on loose asphalt lining the road. “Four of them. Three older, one younger. We used to do these feats of strength.” He pulled in a breath. “One of us would pick an object and the others would have to stand as long as possible with it. You know ... dad’s toolbox in your right arm but only on your left leg. Or we’d tote it long distances. When I was six, I carried a ten-pound watermelon an entire block in the palm of my hand.” “I can’t imagine having competition like that. I was an only child.” “I read that,” he said. She twisted her gaze upward, meeting his. “Don’t believe everything you read. Those tabloids are particularly awful. I have not dated half the guys they’ve listed. There are some awful pictures circulating, too. One, really bad, photo caught me picking my butt.” “It’s a cute butt,” he replied. “You can’t fault a guy for wanting to look.” She laughed, as he’d intended, then sobering, patted his arm. “I can walk the rest. I’m wearing you out.” Without comment, he lowered her onto her feet.

Entering their rented room, sometime later, their long walk caught up with him. He took a seat on one of two beds and flipped on an aged brass lamp. An oldermodel TV sat opposite on a rickety stand. Sloane kicked off her shoes, rubbing the soles of her feet. “You hungry?” Noah asked. “I saw a snack machine in the office.” “And when did they fill it last?” Noah conceded her point with a flick of his wrist. “We could have borrowed a phone and got you home, at least. I can call my friend to come get me in the morning.” “I can’t leave you out here. That would be uncivil.” He shrugged. “I’m used to it. You’re not.” This remark, meant innocently, seemed to upset her. Blowing out a breath, she waved her arms wide. “Is that what I’ve become? Out of touch with the everyday man, too far up the tree to look down at the guys on the lower branches.” “Branches? Trees?” He stretched out on the bed. “You seem okay to me ... and there’s nothing wrong with success.” “Isn’t there? I mean, look at us right now. You’re over there. I’m over here. Because if I touched you, I might catch some disease.” He couldn’t see that they’d considered that when they’d entered, but clearly, it meant something to her. He mulled over what to say and scooted over. “So, come here,” he said. He patted his side. She eyed him, showing some reluctance, but eventually rose and did as he’d suggested. She lay flat, her hands crossed over her chest, coffin-like, and seeing it, he leaned overhead. “You know, I have to make love to you tomorrow, but you’re not really turning me on.” A tiny smile formed. “What would do that?”

He lowered himself further. “We could enact the shower scene.” Her smile spread. “Season four, Trace and Holly in the shower and in walks ...” “Mrs. Bryant,” they said together. “Old busybody,” Sloane added. “Always preaching morality to Holly.” “That’s not so bad. Is it?” he asked. “Nobody should really live like the Hamptons or the Stonefields.” She shifted her hands to her sides. “You really believe that? You think there’s still people who live clean, upright lives?” “I know so,” he said, “because there are my parents.” He collapsed on the pillow, and a moment later, she rolled toward him and closed her eyes. In the quiet, she drifted to sleep. For someone with a solid career and so much success, she was incredibly insecure. That surprised him, that someone as big in the acting world as Sloane Krieger had any doubts about who she was. He’d had tons of guidance from his parents but set it all aside, aware they wouldn’t agree with any of this. And maybe, one piece of himself didn’t either. But what could he do? He’d found a good-paying part for once. He could finally settle some bills, buy a car. He shut his eyes. Maybe it was bigger than that, though. Maybe the steps he’d taken to be here weren’t for himself. Maybe they were more than the joy of acting or a glimpse of fame. Or even money. After all, a day ago, he couldn’t have pictured himself closed in a room with Sloane, yet here he was.

CHAPTER 2 Sloane awakened to the scent of hotel soap and weak morning sunlight filtering in the window. Her gaze on the ceiling, her evening returned – the new guy, her car on the side of the road, their conversation. She turned her head toward, where steam billowed out the bathroom doorway. She’d shared personal thoughts with him that she hadn’t spoken to anyone while living here. How did she feel about that? If anything, Noah had tried to help her relax. He’d been friendly, casual about it, and that was nice for a change. She and Ricky had gotten along, but Rick was all about his lines, his appearances, his next thing. That mentality had convinced him to leave the show. The slew of producers, directors, and other laborers had their own agendas as well. With the exception of Rosy, no one asked her how she was doing or considered her feelings on anything. Her thoughts altered. She could see some of the reasons why Noah had been chosen, especially given his knowledge of the show. But how did she feel about him in such an intimate role? It was a part of the job that, truth be told, she wasn’t all that fond of. When she’d gotten the part, she’d known it’d come down to that at some point – her and some unknown male embracing on screen – and she’d been nervous, at the time. Now, it held little emotion. It was as much an act as anything else, simply memorized lines, body motions, and camera angles. The bathroom door opened, and Noah emerged. Sloane smiled. “Now is when you come entice me with your clean-man smell.” Noah grinned. “Will that work?” “Holly would like it.” Not the answer he wanted, given his expression. He strolled over, however, yesterday’s blue jeans tight on his damp skin. With one hand he fanned air from his chest toward her nose. “You can have a turn, too,” he said. She inhaled deep. “You smell great, but ... I want to ask a question.”

“Okay. Shoot.” He took a seat at her side. “Have you given any thought to today’s scene?” Taking a breath, he leaned back, his face growing more serious. “I’ve thought about it. More importantly, I’ve watched enough of the show to know what they expect.” “That doesn’t bother you?” Noah tilted his gaze, his face masked. “Are we back to morality again?” She shrugged. “I guess.” “Whose? Mine or yours?” She didn’t respond, and he reclined, stretching his legs out in front of him. “You know, I thought I’d be the one who’d struggle with this, me being new, but it seems like you, the veteran, are bothered worse.” “You’re not bothered by it?” He pursed his lips. “I’m bothered, yes. But it’s either do it and work tomorrow or go home and fail. Maybe my pride keeps me from giving up. I don’t want to grow old and die a retired high school drama teacher.” “My high school drama teacher encouraged me to pursue acting,” she replied. “I wouldn’t be here without her guidance, so that doesn’t seem all bad.” “That seems normal,” he replied. “I’m not sure I’m ready for normal.” “There’s the issue.” She pointed at him. “Maybe I’m looking for normal. The lives of the characters are anything but. I’ve been in more awkward situations as Holly Hampton than I can count. My life, now that people know me, isn’t normal either. That was part of my fear last night. I kept thinking, if you hadn’t been with me, where would I have ended up, and what nut-job would have helped me out?” “But I was there, so that didn’t happen,” he replied, “and here’s a promise. I’m

here anytime you need me.” He was sincere, and sincerity like that was hard to find in the business. On impulse, she leaned forward and pecked his lips. He started. “What was that for?” “Because I like you. I feel like I can be unsure of myself around you, and it’s perfectly okay.” He didn’t answer, for a moment, then his voice deepened. “You are perfectly okay exactly how you are. No acting required. I would prefer doing the scene today with you a little fresher, though.” Giving a light laugh, Sloane swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Very well ... and I’d like to know how we’re going to get there.” “Already taken care of.” She stared at him, questioning. He smiled wide. “The studio sent a cab.”

Tears rolled down Sloane’s quivering cheeks to suspend on the tip of her chin, and a sob shook her frame. “You cheated ... w-with her! After all our time together, you betrayed me with my best friend.” “I’m sorry, Holly. Please, forgive me. I’ll never do it again.” Reaching for her, Noah tried to scoop her into his arms, but she shoved away. “You say that every single time. How many more are there, Trace? How many times do I have to give in?” She whirled, her skirt flaring around her. He stepped up behind, his tone, husky. “I love you, only you. She means nothing to me ... nothing.” Dropping his hand on her shoulder, Noah turned her around and tipped her face upward. “We’re good together, you and me. Think of all the memories we have. There’s too much between us to set all this aside.” Sloane tugged backward. “I ... I can’t. I can’t do this, not anymore, as bad as I want ...” In a surge, he claimed her mouth, pressing in hard. She resisted. Digging her nails into his neck, she shoved free. “Stop. You can’t change my mind!” “I think I can,” he replied. He swept her from the floor, and she thrashed against him, hands flailing, feet kicking. He tossed her on the bed and pressed her beneath him. “Spirit,” he said. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you. It’s what makes you so very attractive.” He smashed his mouth to hers, once more, and at first, she fought back. But the longer he held in place, the more her grip slackened, her lips growing eager. She wrapped one hand behind his neck and pulled him close. “Cut.” Noah rose onto his elbow. “That hurt.” Sloane turned his cheek with one hand. “Didn’t mean to claw you so hard.” “We need you in the sheets,” the director said. “Go change.”

Noah peeled himself away and walked off set through the hallway door. Shedding down to his underwear, he donned a robe and reappeared in the faux bedroom alongside Sloane. She strolled over, one hand in the pocket of a matching robe. “You ready for this?” “You’ve slept with me already, so I think I’ll be okay.” His joke seemed to fall flat, unknown emotions flickering on her face. “About that ... thanks for everything. I didn’t expect to be so much trouble.” “Places,” the director said. Noah shed his robe, aware of all the eyes on his backside, and climbed in next to Sloane. He positioned himself as they’d been in the last scene. “You’re pretty awesome,” he said. “Am I allowed to say that?” She smiled, her apprehension from moments ago apparently gone. “You’re allowed. It’s almost real, except for the underwear and the pasties.” She raised her arm to his neck again. “Mmm. Close,” he replied. “In five, four, three, two ...” The director waved his arm, and Noah dipped his head to hers. She was awesome. He hadn’t lied about that. Lying next to her during the night, he’d listened to her breaths ease in and out. It’d struck him, at that moment, that he’d objectified her as much as anyone else who watched the soap. She’d become more like Holly Hampton, than Sloane Krieger, a woman with faults and weaknesses. But she was real, as she’d said. She had doubts and fears, and he imagined, hopes, as well. Looking at her now, she was confident. And that was very sexy, more so because she didn’t seem to know it. His thoughts shifting, he kissed her as the scene demanded, dragging his lips across her jawline and down to the base of her throat. The tip of his tongue

darted out, sampling her soft skin, and she exhaled, long, entangling one leg with his. Grasping her shoulders, he rolled them both over, settling her on top, and they parted an inch, her hair swirled perfectly around her face. “Why do I always give in to you?” she asked. The bed covers slipped down her back. He slid his fingers along her sides, to her waist. “Because you love me. Tell me you love me, Holly.” She frowned, puckering rouged lips. “I love what you do to me, nothing more.” He tightened his grip. “I don’t believe that. That doesn’t give us this ... this magnetism we have. You love me.” His hands roamed further, cupping her bottom. She lowered her head again and whispered in his ear. “Stop talking.” Their mouths met in a rush of warm breath, their tongues dancing together. Noah poured his energy into the kiss. Like he’d said, he thought about this. He’d told himself he played a part. This was Trace Hampton making love to his wife, Holly. Yet Sloane’s fingers massaging his chest, their skin warming together, he was back in the hotel, unsure he could draw that line so dark. She’d been vulnerable then, a subtle turn-on. Add in their body heat and, he liked to think, their chemistry, and he didn’t want to stop. He clasped her against him, his fingers seeking and, one hand curved around her thigh, she arched her back and released a groan. “Cut.” Startled by the director’s call, Noah released her, sudden, and Sloane fell free. Her expression shaken, hands trembling, she scrambled for her robe and raced off set. “That was perfect,” the director said. “Absolutely perfect. Excellent. Totally believable. We only need one take.”

But Noah’s stomach twisted. He’d gone too far, and given the faces around him, everyone knew it. He retreated to his dressing room, and, head bowed, wrestled with his thoughts. He should apologize. The director had been pleased, but Sloane had acted frightened. Why, though? Why had feeling something ... she had to have felt it ... left her frightened instead? Should he have to apologize for that? A knock came at the door, and he rose, surprised to find Sloane in the hallway. Her hair pulled up, hasty, her blouse sat on her shoulders, askew. “Can I come in?” she asked. Noah reversed, and she entered, shutting the door behind her. Once more, things between them grew awkward. He cleared his throat. For whatever reason that she’d come, he should take the first steps to fix this. “I didn’t mean to ... go off script.” Her posture softened. “Would you kiss me again?” Startled by her question, Noah took a step back. “You want me to? I thought ...” Thought he’d pushed things too far. He’d wanted to feel something, knowing that wasn’t required. Sloane edged toward him, closing the distance again. She pressed one hand, flat, in the center of his chest. “Please. I have to know.” To know if their kiss on set was real or not. He’d wanted to feel something, and that frightened her, that what they’d shared wasn’t an act at all. There was her weakness once more—disbelief she was capable of something meaningful, although he didn’t fully understand why she struggled with that. Drinking in the plea in her eyes, Noah raised his hands to her cheeks and lowered his mouth to hers. The spark left flickering, relit, and nothing mattered but him and her and them, together. She fell against him afterward, her face buried in his shirt. “That’s what I thought.” “What you thought?”

She sighed. “I wanted to know if I’d gone crazy.” “You are anything but crazy,” he replied. “You’re awesome, but I already told you that.”

“So ...” Rosy poked her head into Sloane’s view, a knowing smile on her face. “I heard that you and Noah were hot. Word is, you weren’t acting.” Sloane kept her expression blank. The last thing she needed was to spread more rumors. There were a dozen already circulating the lot, including their leaving together yesterday. “He was enthusiastic,” she replied. Rosy’s eyebrows lifted. “Enthusiastic? Darling, I watched the rerun ... three times. That was more than enthusiasm. If the director hadn’t called stop where would you be?” That question had caused her to seek him out. His kiss in the privacy of his dressing room had been gentle, but the emotion of it had stolen her breath. She and Ricky had kissed plenty of times as Trace and Holly. She’d never felt more affection than with a new pair of shoes. But that left her with a lot of questions. The busy day had also taken some of the fire from it all. Yes, they’d had an amazing kiss ... and he was great, as an actor and a man, but it didn’t necessarily mean anything serious should form. Sloane sped her pace, leaving Rosy behind her in the hall. Noah greeted her outside the double doors. “Hope you don’t mind, but I rented us a car.” He dangled a set of keys. “Had to beg an advance.” Having forgotten her vehicle, Sloane didn’t reply right away. She would have paid to have her car returned, but ired Noah’s initiative that he’d not expected it. “After we do this, I promise to be out of your hair for the night.” That remark bothered her, but she didn’t argue. Without transportation, she had to rely on him. She walked beside him toward a low-end auto parked across the lot. He held her door, and she took a seat. “Funny part about it ...” Noah said, once behind the wheel. “I borrowed some kid’s phone to make the call. He reminded me of myself at that age, all excited about meeting the stars ... kept calling me, Mr. Lee, which sounds like my dad. Anyhow ... I’ve never thought of myself as anyone famous.” “Don’t. Don’t ever think of yourself as a star.” She waved one finger. “It’s what

changes you. I’ve tried to prevent that and still find it affecting me.” “I don’t see it,” he returned. “You’re pretty down-to-earth.” He circled the wheel, turning out of the studio. “I never answer anything,” she replied, several minutes ing. His brow drew upward, his expression puzzled. “You know, letters, emails, tweets. I ignore them all.” “I don’t hardly think that’s the same thing.” “It is. I used to answer them. I liked connecting with the fans. Now, I don’t.” Noah held her gaze, for a moment, then returned his to the road. “Seems like that bothers you, so I’ll ask why.” “Too many haters.” Sloane took a deep breath and leaned back further. “Honestly, it was just a job at first. I never planned for it to get so huge or for Holly Hampton to be so awful. But now, people associate me with her, no matter what I do.” She hadn’t wanted to change who she was for this job, but it’d happened anyway. Regret choked her. The light in Noah’s eyes, the excitement he had to be on the soap would only lead to the same sort of misery in the long run. She wanted to beg him to let it all go, but the words died on her tongue. He didn’t want out. He’d only just gotten in, and despite her frustration, she ed that feeling. And the excuses she’d given her mother. This was good experience. She was learning the ropes. Yeah, sometimes she had to act a more risqué scene, but that was all written out in the script. “What would your parents say about my example?” she asked. The weight of his gaze warmed her, though she didn’t look his way. “They’d treat you like any other beautiful, young woman I brought home,” he replied. “Mom would ply you with hot tea and some form of dessert. Dad would tell you a funny and probably embarrassing story about me growing up.”

That sounded ideal, and a woman like her should stay miles away. “But they wouldn’t approve.” “They wouldn’t know. Like I said, they never watch TV. That said, there isn’t a judgmental bone in their body.” Noah pulled onto the side of the road, the car bouncing in the unmown grass. A tow truck lumbered in their direction. Its lights flashing, the driver came to a halt. “What are we doing?” she asked, her thoughts changing. “We’re here to meet the tow truck.” “But my car is ... gone.” Disbelief clogged her throat. “Somebody stole my car?” Noah unfastened his seatbelt. “It looks that way. Stay here.” He exited and dashed across the road to the tow truck. After a short conversation, the driver cranked and left. Noah fell back into the driver’s seat. “I owe him gas for his trouble ... and I guess we need to call the police.” Tears pushed at her eyelids. She blinked, willing them not to fall. “Hey.” Noah reached for her, curving his palm on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about all this. How about I take you home? We’ll call from there. I know this has been upsetting, but I promise we’ll get it all figured out. She inclined her head, half-hearted, and looked aside. He seemed to know she needed space and kept quiet. She was surprised, then, when he pulled up to the gate at her condominium complex. “Internet search,” he replied. “I did say I was a fan.” She smiled. That was like him. Yet, once inside her home, she couldn’t hold onto her light mood. She switched on a lamp. Around her were all the signs of her success ... awards, photos with big-name celebs at major TV events. Pointless memories that meant nothing anymore.

Noah spun in a slow circle and spoke upbeat. “It’s nice,” he said. “Above my pay grade.” Though he meant well, her tears finally came. Noah stretched out an arm and folded her against him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m really not that vain.” To get so upset over a car. Or an acting job. He patted her back. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone gets down in the dumps.” But this was more than that. “I hate Sloane Krieger,” she said. Noah pushed her to an arm’s length. “You’ve simply lost yourself. I think Sloane Krieger is still in there.” He tapped his forefinger on her forehead. “The ‘intelligent, wonderful girl who got into acting as an outlet for repressed emotions.’” She laughed, weak. “You read too much.” His smile strengthened. “I’ll accept that. But it’s true. Shed all the stuff ...” He waved one hand outward. “... all the trappings of fame and the show. Set Holly Hampton aside, and I see someone beautiful. I think the problem is you’ve been pretending to be what you’re not for so long.” She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. “Am I paying you for this advice?” “The advice is free,” he replied. “So is the guy who gave it.” “I like the guy who gave it.” Opening her eyes again, she tipped her face upward. She liked him a lot, in fact. And, right then, wished he’d kiss her again, if only to prove it to herself. But he released her and reached for her landline phone. “We should call and report your car stolen.” That took over an hour and helped distract her from her unhappy thoughts. But the officer gone, Noah aimed for the door, jingling the keys in his pocket. Panic set in. He couldn’t leave. She couldn’t be alone. It’d be hours and hours to beat herself up.

“Y-you’re going?” Her voice cracked. “I should give you some space.” Space was the last thing she needed. “Don’t go. Stay ... as my friend. On the couch. I ... I don’t want to be alone tonight. I ...” Her plea faded. Noah stood still, for a moment, his thoughts cloaked, then pulled his hand from his pocket and pressed it to her cheek. “There’s more to this than friends,” he said. “I hope you realize that.” A dozen butterflies fluttered in her gut. “I feel like a school girl facing her first crush,” she replied, soft, “not like a trashy soap star.” “It’s the school girl I like the best,” he said.

CHAPTER 3 Noah pulled Sloane down at his side on her couch and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re a good cook,” he said. After he’d agreed to stay, she’d gone into overdrive to make him comfortable. Out of fear he’d change his mind, he guessed but didn’t say so. “You’re a good eater.” He chuckled, his more serious thoughts returning afresh. “Tell me about Sloane, the little girl. What’s your earliest memory?” “My earliest?” She made a slight hum in her throat. “Painting. My mom was painting the wall ... outside, I think ... and I wanted to help. I her holding my hand, the brush too big for my grasp, and guiding it up and down. I couldn’t have been more than five.” “And after that?” “After that, a lot of small memories. Me and her in the back yard, she’s pushing me on the swing. It had this gimpy leg, slightly rusted, and every time she pushed too hard to the right, it’d leap off the ground. I always felt like I was going to go over, but never did.” “She would have caught you.” “Who’s going to catch me now?” Sloane asked, frustration in her voice. “I’m falling into oblivion, Alice in the eternal rabbit hole.” The fear in her eyes jabbed him, sharp, in the chest. His being here was a small sign of something much bigger. “I won’t let you hit bottom,” he said. “But I’m dragging you down with me.” He suspected that was the closest to the truth of where her struggles began. The positive emotions they’d shared were, in her gaze, fleeting, and any happiness, which might arise, destined to vanish. “That’s impossible. I’m too tall,” he teased.

She laughed, as he’d intended. “You have to lighten up,” he said. “There’s still a lot of life to look forward to.” “I feel used up.” Another thing she battled, and she’d only just itted it. She was tired and overwhelmed, had been long before he came into the picture. In that same thought, he wasn’t obligated to fix her. Most guys he knew would go the other way, but thinking of his parents, he couldn’t do that. What would happen to her if he did? And who would pick up the pieces if she fell apart? “You know the cause?” he asked. She shook her head. “Lack of me.” The corners of her lips tipped, and she made a breathy laugh. “You definitely need more of me.” He jabbed his forefinger into her side and wiggled it. Squirming, her laughter spilled out, a beautiful sound. He pressed in harder, and she tried to escape. But in rising, off-balance, fell awkwardly to the side. He draped himself over her, and they stilled. One hand curved over his heart, each beat transferred outward from her palm. They’d been like this earlier today, except in front of the cameras. This was distinctly different. They had more on, yet it was far more intimate. And meaningful. “I’m afraid,” she said. “Of me?” “Of this ... feeling that I’m suspended from reality. I don’t know how to behave.” Noah sat up, tugging her upright after him. He tucked her to his side. “How’s this?”

“Comfy.” She leaned her cheek to his chest. “As to how you feel,” he continued, “when two people find something special in one another, it develops over time. It’s unpolished at first. Then, as they share their lives, it starts to shine.” “I’m so glad I’m with a relationship expert,” she said. He chuckled. “I had two good examples to live by.” “You know, more and more, I want to meet them. I want to ask how they raised such a fabulous human being.” “Patience and a lot of prayer.” She raised her chin and stared at him. “Why are you acting in a soap? Can I ask, and you not get angry? They’re like the product that gave them the name, only once smeared all over you, you can’t ever get it off. You’re too good for this. You could be ... anything else.” “I’ll answer your question,” he replied. “But first, I want to ask you one. If you feel that way, why do you stay? You’re not obligated, no matter what you think. Sloane Krieger can get a job doing something she loves. She isn’t Holly Hampton, and sure, the world would gasp at first, but then they’d replace you.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up one finger. “Nor are you too dirty to get out.” That’s what this was. She thought she was too far gone and could, somehow, save him from the same fate. That was a tremendous load to bear. And unfair to herself. “When you got the part, it was entirely your decision. Wasn’t it?” he asked. “Your mom couldn’t stop you?” She shook her head. “This isn’t any different. I’m responsible for my choices. You’re responsible for yours.”

“But I don’t want this for you. I want ...” He waited for her to finish the statement. She needed to say it, if only to hear it with her own ears. How long had she held all this inside with no one to talk to, no one who’d make her think about it? She’d isolated herself, and that was no way to live. “I want you to be better than me,” she said. He smiled, and her brows knit. “That makes you happy?” “You don’t see it. Do you?” She shook her head. “I’ve never been happier than I am right now, and that’s because I’m with you.” Her cheeks pinked. “I’m thirteen,” she said softly, “and the cutest boy in school just paid me a compliment. I’m so green. I don’t know how to behave when Holly would go at this with both hands.” “I’m not interested in Holly,” he replied. “I’m interested in Sloane, and whether or not she realizes it, she’s acting exactly how she should.” “Terrified?” “Young. Naïve. Inexperienced. If we were thirteen, then all you’re feeling would be appropriate. I can’t see that’s it’s changed because we’re not.” “Shouldn’t it have? Shouldn’t I know how to be after ...” He cut her off. “After all you’ve done. We’re back to that? Because you’ve been Holly Hampton, who cheated on her spouse, you should automatically know what love feels like?” She gasped. “That scares you,” he said, “the very idea that you could find it, and it be real ... and I’m not saying what we have is or isn’t that, but that no one is beyond

saving. Not even you.” Whatever reaction he expected, she pushed to her feet and turned aside. “I’m going to go shower and change,” she said. “I think I have an old t-shirt you can borrow, belonged to a friend in college ages ago. I’ll dig it up and you can shower in the guest bath if you want.” He watched her go, a figurative door slamming behind her. It was easier to maintain the persona of Holly than to be Sloane. In fact, she didn’t even know how to be Sloane. She’d said as much. His stomach twisting, he rose and followed after her. She emerged from her bedroom with the mentioned t-shirt in hand and stuffed it in his fingers. In her next breath, she was gone. He sighed and revolved on his heel. Shedding his shirt, he stepped into the guest bath and turned on the hot water. Steam rose in a cloud, filling the small space, and the mirror over the sink fogged. He wiped one hand across the glass. That’s how her life had been. She’d stared through the mist at the faintest outline of her reflection for so long, she’d forgotten what it’d be like to see it all at once. But he could, and she was beautiful, inside and out. She needed to look at herself through his eyes, not her own, not the fans, and not what was left of her on a television screen. There was far more to Sloane Krieger than that. The space his hand had formed on the glass soon blended in with the rest, and he exhaled. She wanted to save him from becoming her, and maybe she had. Maybe she was right, and he didn’t need all this. Maybe what he really needed, he’d found the day they met, though she seemed too fragile to accept it.

Sloane leaned against the bedroom door, wanting to yank it open again. To yank it open and throw herself at him. He was right. Everything he’d said about how she felt was true. She was terrified ... and uncertain and filled with doubts. She also felt she was beyond saving. Wasn’t it possible for someone to fall far enough they couldn’t climb back up? She thought she had and, therefore, didn’t deserve to be happy. Even worse, she would rub off on him, and he’d change. She couldn’t stand that. She’d rather let him go than see him be anything other than the kind, caring man he’d already proven he was. Sloane undressed and climbed in the shower. She stood there long after the water was cold, until her skin was riddled with goosebumps and her teeth chattered. Punishment, again. Even in this, she couldn’t allow herself any peace. She crawled out eventually and dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt. She took her time brushing out her hair. Then tossing aside the thought he’d see her without makeup, she left the bedroom and roamed down the hall. He was seated at the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand. “I found the pot,” he said. She nodded and, turning her back, poured a cup. “I have cream.” “Found that, too.” The atmosphere strained, she dawdled, reluctant to face him. His mug thumped on the counter, his footsteps coming toward her from behind. “Look at me,” he said. He turned her around with one hand, and she raised a weighted gaze. Taking her coffee cup, he set it aside and, in one swoop, lifted her off her feet. “What are you doing?” she squeaked. He didn’t answer but carried her to her bedroom. Kicking the door open, he crossed to the bed and settled her there.

“What do you expect me to do right now?” he asked. When she didn’t reply, he rephrased his question. “What would Holly do?” The first, she couldn’t say, but the second, she knew for sure. “Get angry, argue, then seize the moment.” “Okay, now, toss that aside. That’s her, and this is you. What does Sloane want to do?” Her eyes filled, tears sliding over her cheeks. “Here’s what Noah wants to do,” he said. “He wants to prove how very wonderful you are.” He lowered his face to hers. “He wants to give in and spend the night in here, not on the couch. But that’s not what Sloane deserves. Life is not a soap opera. It isn’t written and edited in a script for the Great Director in the sky to give us our cue. Instead, we stumble along, speaking out of turn, and He has to correct us again and again. Life is full of mistakes, and I can’t say if taking this part as Trace on the soap was one of those or not. It could be I compromised myself today, but if so, that’s what forgiveness is for. I it it was wrong, and I move on.” She gulped, a knot in her throat. “Are you ... moving on?” “I’m not sure. I can’t go into the past and wipe it out. Neither can you. Not who you’ve been, not who you think you’ve become, not how you feel right now.” His voice deepened. “This is real. This is me and you without any cameras wanting to complete what we didn’t yesterday. Isn’t it?” “Yes,” she spoke in a whisper. Noah kissed her, lingering on the softness of her lips. Her mouth parted, and he sampled her tongue, her breath rushing out when he pulled away. “This isn’t make-believe,” he said. “I want you to that after I leave.” “You’re going?” she asked. “To the couch, because unlike the soaps, that’s what a guy with any decency in him would do. It’s called self-control, but that sucks for ratings.” “You’re not Trace Hampton at all,” she said.

He stood to his feet. “No, and I never will be.”

“Cut! Sloane, what is up with you today?” The director flung his arms wide and gave an exasperated sigh. “Did you sleep last night?” No. She’d tossed and turned, willing Noah to come back but knowing he wouldn’t. Somewhere close to three a.m., she’d given up trying and flipped on the bedside light. She’d stared at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts, until dawn. “We’ll try one more time,” the director continued. “Now, , Trace and Holly are building up to yet another argument.” Argue. With Noah. No, Trace. He was Trace, not Noah. But looking at him, all she could see was his eyes when he’d kissed her. She tasted the heat of his breath and sank back into the rush that had filled her mind. “Can I have five?” she asked. “I gave you five already.” “Five more. Please. I’ll ... I’ll get it right. I’m sorry.” The director waved his hand, dismissive, and she escaped to the dressing room. Removing a bottled water from the small fridge in the corner, she twisted the cap and took a swig. Her door swung open. “Spill,” Rosy said. “You and Noah are awful cozy today. What’s going on?” Rather than reply, Sloane took another drink. “Don’t do that. I’m not giving up, you know. You can drink that entire bottle, and I’m still going to find out.” “You’ll run out of time, though,” Sloane returned. “I only have five.” “You left here together again,” Rosy pressed. Sloane eyed her friend. Rosy had worked here just a few months longer than she had, and they’d bonded as newbies, but never so much they shared everything in each other’s lives. On her side of it, that was mostly because Rosy was all the things she wasn’t. Daring, for one. She’d jump in with both feet without ever

looking at where she would land, and personally, she found that intimidating. “Well?” Sloane exhaled. “I gave him a ride home the day before, but my car broke down before we got there. We ended up together ... nothing happened,” she added. “He’s nice. We talked.” “And this morning?” Sloane sank onto a stool. “I had a bad day yesterday, was a mess mentally. He had to drive me home because my car was stolen.” “Stolen?” She bobbed her head. “No word yet either. In any case, he came inside, and I fell apart. He was nice enough to stay ... on the couch.” Rosy tilted her head. “That doesn’t explain the connection you have today or why you keep mes your lines. You care for him.” Her cheeks warm, Sloane pressed the bottle to one side of her face then the other. “Wow. It’s worse than that,” Rosy continued. “You’re falling in love with him.” “I ... I’m not in love with him. It’s too soon. I mean, he’s nice and ...” “And if you believe that, you’re lying to yourself.” There was a knock at the door. A brusque voice spoke through it. “On in two.” Sloane took another swig and set the bottle on the vanity dresser. “According to him, I’ve been lying to myself for years, too focused on the part I play and not enough on myself.” Rosy tilted her head. “Maybe you should stop lying then.” “How?” she shouted. “How do I do that? I’m supposed to go out and argue with him right now. Pretend he’s some ... some ... awful, greedy, money-wasting, liar and cheat, when he’s not any of those things. He’s beautiful and wonderful and

....” Rosy’s wide smile shut her up. She’d said too much. Her heart pounding, her pulse swishing in her ears, Sloane willed the words back inside. “Like I thought. You’re in love with him.” Sloane groaned. “I can’t be. I can’t fall in love. And I can’t go out there and do this part.” Rosy stood. One hand on Sloane’s shoulder, she pushed her toward the door. “Solution,” she said. “First, let yourself fall in love. It’s what’s best for you. Second, pretend you’re arguing with yourself and you’ll get it in one take. Sounds like you’ve been doing that a lot.” She opened the door and waved Sloane through. Back on the set, Sloane took her place and faced him but, as Rosy had suggested, pictured herself instead. Not the kind, loving, gentle man who’d stolen her heart, but the pathetic, withering creature she was inside. She castigated herself, working up her anger. How dare she walk away from him? How dare she turn her back on being something new and better? She deserved to feel something good for once. “And ... action.” “I can’t believe you,” she said, her voice rising. “Some things never change. You never change. Well, you won’t have me anymore. I deserve to live my life without the constant heartache. I am somebody!” “Holly ...” She held up one hand. “No, it’s done. It’s over. And I ...” She stopped mid-sentence. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t stand here and pretend he was a man he wasn’t. He was Noah, and she didn’t want to argue. She wanted to ... to ... Grasping his cheeks, she mashed their lips together and willed him to understand, to see that this was different, that she needed him.

A murmur arose in the room. “What’s going on?” someone asked. “This isn’t in the script.” “Keep filming,” the director said. Ignoring the voices, the whispers crisscrossing the set, she clung to him until her breath fled and she had to pull away. “I knew you had it in you,” he said. She brought her mouth to his again, lovesick. “You know me better than anyone.” “Cut. That was amazing. Whatever you did, Sloane, keep doing that because ...” The director’s voice faded beneath the thoughts ringing in her head, the greatest, that Holly Hampton had stepped aside. She wasn’t her, had never been her, any more than Noah was Trace. Noah was better, and most importantly, hers.

CHAPTER 4 Sloane unfurled the tabloid paper, one finger poised over the page, anger pulsing in her voice. “I can’t believe the stuff they write sometimes.” Rosy wandered across the dressing room and gazed over her shoulder, the ends of her hair tickling Sloane’s neck. “Aren’t those images from ...?” “Our second scene together.” Sloane finished her statement. “And look at what they did! They clipped out the part with Trace and Holly making love and presented it as if that was Noah and me. Six weeks, it’s been six weeks, and they’re still bringing that up.” She ran her finger across the series of pseudo-erotic images. “And listen to this.” She cleared her throat. “‘Holly and Trace are real.’ That’s the headline! ‘Famed soap opera couple Holly and Trace Hampton, played by long-time actor, Sloane Krieger, and newcomer, Noah Lee have been seen together off set,’” she read, “’It is speculated that they are in the midst of a ‘hot fling.’ Sources say the couple spends the evening hours alone in Miss Krieger’s apartment, emerging at dawn to drive to work.’” She blew out a breath. “Sources? What sources?” “Well, whoever they are,” Rosy replied. “It’s true.” “He’s on the couch!” “Yeah, but no one can see through the wall, and you sneak off alone a lot.” Sloane ran her knuckles across her cheek and willed her face cooler. “It’s common knowledge you’re seeing one another,” Rosy added. “Besides, what are you reading this stuff for anyhow? Noah doesn’t seem bothered.” He wasn’t bothered. He was the most amazing person, seemingly unharmed by anything said about him. Ever since his debut, his popularity had gone insane. He received so many letters and emails each day that the show had hired a publicist to handle it all.

“It’s the appearance of it,” Sloane continued. “They can’t separate me from Holly or Noah from Trace, and he’s nothing like Trace.” “You know what I think?” “No, but you’re going to tell me.” Rosy smiled and patted her shoulder. “That’s the one thing you’ve struggled with the most. You want a clean public image, for him more than for yourself, but the fact is, people can’t separate the character from the girl ... or the man, for that matter.” Noah had said the same. She had said the same. It tasted bitter just the same. Sloane stared at the tabloid, the photos becoming a blur. “You’re trembling.” Crumpling the paper, Sloane tried to relax. It did no good to get worked up over it. Her body seemed to have another will, however. Her lungs tightening, she tried to find her breath. Her stomach lurched. “Find Noah. Please!” Rosy zipped from the room. He appeared seconds later. He gathered her to him, his gentle strength bringing relief, and gradually, her sanity returned. “Talk to me,” he said. “I was reading the tabloids.” She nodded toward the crumpled pages. He took hold, flipped it over, and smoothed the paper on her vanity table. He was silent for a while, then curled it into a tube and dropped it in an overflowing trash can. “That’s where it belongs.” “I knew this would happen,” she argued. “I’m not allowed one moment of bliss.” He chuckled, and she pulled backwards, her brow furrowing. “That’s funny to you?” “Me being blissful, yeah.” Lifting her off the stool, he sat in her place and deposited her in his lap.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “The world thinks we’re living together. Since that bothers you, we’ll fix it. I’ve done some digging, and there’s a sublet in your building.” “Won’t that make things look worse?” “I don’t think so. Plus, I can’t stay where I’m at anyhow. We’ll make a big show of me moving in. Then, we’ll go out on the town, let the world see us together. If we’re more public, it’ll shift the speculation. Plus, I have news ... I’ve accepted a talk show interview.” “Noah, no ...” He silenced her protest with his lips and set her on her feet. “Trust me on this,” he said. “I can handle it. The question will come up , and I’ll say my piece.” Doubts battered her brain. She trusted him, but she didn’t trust reporters. They’d twist your words to fit whatever suited them. Look at today’s tabloid paper. They’d used a scripted image to lie about something she’d never share with the public. “We can go if you’re ready,” Noah said. “I’m looking forward to some down time ... and I can make that phone call when we get home.” She nodded her acceptance and trailed after him to the car, but while they drove, stewed on what he’d said. Going public would quiet some voices and raise others, and those voices, she worried over. Noah didn’t see the danger; he hadn’t enough experience to know how bad it could be. But arguing the point took more strength than she had, right then, so she let it go. Her mood was mixed when they arrived. Unspeaking, she aimed for the condo. She came to a halt at the bottom of the entrance stairs. “Mom?” “Hello, dear.” Her mom’s gold shades caught the evening light. A new fear ed hands with the others. Sloane pressed one hand to her stomach and willed it calm. Her mom’s arrival never meant anything good.

“There’s the poster boy I’ve seen so much of on the entertainment news,” her mom added. “Ms. Krieger.” Her mom flapped one hand. “Oh, please. That makes me feel old. Call me Helen.” She motioned toward the door. “Well, are you going to stand there or let us in?” Intimidated, Sloane obeyed. Once inside, her mother spun toward Noah. “I have a bag in my car. Perhaps you could go fetch it?” She extended a set of car keys. “I’ll be staying for a few days, but never fear, don’t let that interrupt your daily lives. I can take the couch.” The couch. Sloane opened and closed her mouth. That’s where Noah slept. “Go ahead,” her mom said to him, extending the keys further. “It’s in the trunk.” Embarrassment swept over her. She swallowed it until Noah had walked out. “What was all that for? He’s not your errand boy!” Her mom’s perfectly plucked eyebrows arched upward. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” “Noah and I are ...” “Sweetheart,” her mom interrupted. “I already said I don’t care what you do in the bedroom. I gave up long ago trying to get you to have a better image. If you no longer care what people say about you, then why should I?” “I care, but you can’t just ...” Her words landed on empty air. Her mom had walked away. Sloane trailed after her into the kitchen. “I care,” she repeated. With less force. Arguing with her mom had never done much good. Her mother opened the refrigerator and scanned the shelves. “You don’t have yogurt?”

“On the right.” Her mother shifted several items aside and grasped a foil-wrapped cup. She slid a spoon from a drawer. “I love you, dear. But when the ladies at the club started rattling on about your ... companion ... I couldn’t take it anymore.” “Couldn’t take what? Me having someone who’s interested in me, or you not running my life?” Her mom frowned. “I do not ‘run your life.’ You proved that long ago. Who you sleep with is all over the news. I simply came to ...” “What?” Noah interrupted. He set her mom’s bag at his feet. “You came to meet me? In that case, I’ve heard good things about you. Sloane shared some of her happy childhood memories.” Her mother’s face changed, her gaze turning inquisitive. “Strange, though, she didn’t mention anything recent. It’s a shame when a parent and a child can’t get along.” He paused. “As to what the papers say, Sloane and I don’t live together. Not that, as you said, it’s really any of your business.” Her mom inclined her head. “As I said, it isn’t.” She peeled back the yogurt cup’s foil label and plunged in the spoon. “I am glad to see you though. Both of you. It seemed wrong I’d never met my daughter’s new thing.” Sloane released a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. There was nothing to do but put up with her. Her being here would put a crimp in things, the biggest of which, what Noah should do about sleeping arrangements. “I need to go,” he said, as if he’d read her thoughts. She startled. “It’s early.” He took her by the hand and tugged her after him out of the room. Once out of earshot, he pulled her close. “Hey ... she’s here, and I think you need time together. Moms don’t always understand what their grown kids do.”

Speaking from his own experience. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek. He was right, but her mom was not like his. “Maybe we can ...” He cut her off, kissing her gently. “No, maybes. I’ve already said I won’t sleep in the bedroom. And you’d rather I shared the couch with your mom?” She managed a smile at his teasing, although her stomach flip-flopped again. “You’ll check on the sublet?” He nodded. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” Kissing her again, he slipped out the door. Sloane revolved and faced her mom. “Satisfied?” she asked. “He’s gone.” Her mom stepped forward, wrapping her in a stiff embrace. “I wasn’t trying to run him off, but three is a crowd. I came to see my daughter. Give me that.” Sloane wanted to ask how many days she planned on staying but didn’t, and the pressure of her visit doubled the strain. Hopefully, she wouldn’t stay long. Otherwise, the tightrope she walked might snap.

“Take, number twelve. Sloane, please get it right this time.” The director tossed himself in his chair, one hand rising to shade his eyes. “Honestly, your love life is taking over this studio.” She accepted his complaint with a nod and returned to her initial position. He waved an arm outward. “And ... action.” Her face hard, she lunged forward. “I said, ‘No.’ You’ve pushed me around one too many times, Noah.” “Cut. Trace! It’s Trace! Have you forgotten his name now?” The director threw his hands wide. “I’m sorry. I ... I didn’t sleep well ....” “There’s always an excuse. These days, you’re full of them. Well, good news! I’m done for today. We’ll resume tomorrow. Go to bed early, and I suggest ... alone.” Her mood souring, Sloane sulked, child-like, and shuffled off the set. Noah came up behind, with one hand steering her into the green room. She plopped down on the couch amongst an array of wrinkled magazines, disinclined to head home and see her mom – again. “Your mom has you rattled,” Noah said. “Don’t be hard on yourself.” She released a loud breath. “She snores. Like ‘old man’ snores ... and you should see her in the mornings. No, I take that back. You shouldn’t.” Noah chuckled and reached for her hand. “Let’s go to dinner,” he said. “I can get us in at Emilio’s.” “My mom ...” “Will figure out you didn’t come home and find something to eat. I want you to myself for a while.” That sounded nice and more upbeat. A half hour and two phone calls later, they

gazed at each other across a corner table. A moderate interest formed around them, customers and wait-staff looking their way. Taking their relationship public had fueled gossip, like she’d said it would. Her mom’s presence had made the pressure of that more difficult to take. Even now, the “time alone” he’d wanted was balanced with people’s need-to-know. Fingering her icy glass, Sloane sank back into the confusion that’d clouded her mind all day. She couldn’t make people go away, but she had to do better on set tomorrow. “I’ve never messed up this badly. Never. He’s losing patience with me.” Him and the majority of the cast. She couldn’t blame them. Everyone wanted to enjoy their job, but her dragging scenes out made it miserable. She’d been on the receiving end before, when others couldn’t their lines. Noah shrugged. “You had an off-day. Tomorrow, you’ll do better.” She soaked in his forgiving expression. “Anybody ever tell you you’re an eternal optimist?” He flashed a boyish grin. “My mom, actually. She can’t complain because I get it from her. She never has a down day.” She never has a down day? Never? The idea bounced back-and-forth in her head. Never, was a long time and to never have a down day, unfathomable. “How does she do it?” “She always says talking to God keeps her soul intact.” Sloane dropped her gaze to her plate. Crisp, green leaves tossed in Italian dressing folded over the tines of her fork. “Does it bother you to be doing this with them believing different?” The question slipped out, and Sloane shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve asked that before and should leave it alone.” “You want to be my conscience,” he replied. “No, I don’t ....”

“Sure, you do,” he interrupted. “I’ll answer you anyway. I think about it, yes, but this is what I’ve chosen. What you really need to ask is why you feel the need to remind me of it all the time.” Why did she? She stuffed the bite in her mouth, unable to answer without repeating the same excuse—she couldn’t stand for him to turn into her. He was tired of hearing that. “Please don’t do it,” she said. The interview. The thought of him being grilled by the media made her ill. Noah frowned and pushed his salad plate aside. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Besides, if I back out now, that gives the wrong impression.” “No, it tells them you’re smart. You have no idea what those people will do to you ... to us.” His unhappiness grew. The arrival of their dinner plates paused the conversation. Noah grasped his knife and fork, poising them over top. His gaze direct, he spoke sharp. “No one can do anything to us unless we let them. It’s going to be okay. Trust me on this.” He poked his fork into his meat, and the subject died. Sloane stirred her vegetables around, halfhearted. She didn’t agree, and though she should leave him alone about it, her years in the business had taught her some things. Once the media sharks tasted blood, there’d be no shaking them, something it seemed, he’d have to learn the hard way. What would be left when he did?

“Is it hot in here? Ladies? Ladies?” A chorus of screams pealed from the TV speaker. Grasping the remote, Sloane turned the volume up and leaned in. “Whew.” The host fanned herself, several of her rings sparkling in the studio lights. “Our next guest on the program is taking the soap opera world by storm. Playing, Holly Hampton’s cheating, lying, back-stabbing, spouse, Trace Hampton, is a young man, ten-kinds of yummy. Let’s welcome Noah Lee!” Lively music pealed over the noise of more screaming as Noah took a seat on the talk show couch. Sloane leaned even further forward in her chair, perching on the edge. “Well, he looks nice,” her mother said. “More dressed than I’ve seen him.” Sloane shot her mom a look. Whatever she meant by that ... she hadn’t seen him. He’d made himself scarce for several days. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He dresses like that all the time,” she replied. In his purple silk shirt and coordinated tie, wearing a tailored pair of slacks, she agreed with the host’s remark – he was yummy. Though, coming from her, it rankled. “Oh my ...” the host purred. “Please, tell me I can just ...” She dipped one finger in his direction, pulling it back quickly as if burned. “Just touch that ... once.” Noah smiled, his expression strained, and squirmed in his seat. ”I am not washing my hands today,” the host continued. Her palm upward, fingers cupped, she crossed chubby legs. “Let’s see ...” She consulted a card in her other hand. “As I said in my introduction, Noah Lee is playing the bad boy of Eternal Flare, Trace Hampton. Tell me ...” She dropped the card to her lap. “Is that fun?” “Well, I suppose,” he replied, “but it goes against my nature to ...”

“I mean, let’s be frank. Ladies? You want the scoop. Right?” The host cut him off. She waved her hands, encouraging the audience’s shouts. “Let’s talk s-e-x. I think we have a clip. Roll ’em, boys.” Sloane expelled a huff, crossing her arms. “She didn’t even give him time to answer.” Her own image appeared onscreen. Why do I always give in to you? the character, Holly, said. The camera zoomed in toward Noah’s chest. Head tilted, his biceps bulging, he leaned toward her. Because you love me, he replied. Tell me you love me, Holly. I love what you do to me, nothing more. The camera angle changed, and there they were, his hands sliding downward beneath the sheets. I don’t believe that. That doesn’t give us this ... this magnetism we have. You love me. Her head lowered again, her hair falling over her cheeks, and her voice emerged husky. Stop talking. The clip ended, and the talk show audience broke into a cheer. “I’m telling you, folks, too bad we had to cut that short because it only got hotter.” “Why do they insist on using that clip?” she asked. “He’s a good actor. Show him in other parts of the role.” “How is it to work with Sloane Krieger?” the host asked. “Is it true you and she are an item? What a lucky girl! She gets to reenact that scene over and over.” The host laughed, and the crowd cheered even more. “Sloane is great, not like the character at all,” Noah said. “As to the rumors, yeah, we’re dating ...” “I knew it!” The host interrupted again. “Holly and Trace are real!”

She laughed at her own statement, and Sloane shoved up from her seat. “She’s making him look shallow, as if all he’s worth is for ... for sex on TV.” “No, dear, you made him look like that.” Sloane whirled. Her mouth opening and closing, she trembled, her mom’s words turning black in her mind. It was coming true ... everything she’d predicted. For all her efforts to prevent it from happening, soon, he’d be like her, washed-up, skeptical, with no future. She’d destroyed him, ruined his career. Like hers was. Hadn’t she shown it lately by making so many mistakes? She was done on the soap. Her problem acting was bigger than a few bad days. Add to that her awful reputation. She was Holly Hampton to everyone – a hateful, vindictive woman, who cheated on her spouse. And no one cared. No one cared about Sloane Krieger. They were laughing, even. Tears slid down her cheeks, dripping off her chin onto her blouse. Her mom approached, but Sloane shoved her away. “Go home,” she said. “I don’t want you here.” “Sweetheart, I only meant ...” Sloane stamped her foot. “Go home!” Her mother sighed. “Very well,” she said. “I tried to warn you, years ago, that this would happen. You should have waited for more respectable work.” A sob shaking her frame, Sloane ran for her bedroom and slammed the door.

Noah grasping the knob and shoved the bedroom door inward, bending his weight against the dresser propped against it on the other side. The legs of the tall furniture piece caught in the grout, bringing his progress to a sudden halt. He squeezed in the narrow opening and found Sloane seated crosswise on her bed. Her mascara had melted into puddles beneath her eyes. Her cheeks glowed red, her skin blotchy from weeping. Seeing him, her crying started all over again, and his heart squeezed. For all her mom’s faults, at least, she’d called him when she’d left. Otherwise, how long would Sloane have sat like this? He crouched at her side, his hands on his knees. “Tell me what happened.” At this, she wiped the side of her hand beneath her eyes. The black stain left of her mascara transferred to her palm. “I told her to go. She said ... she said I ruined you.” Noah sighed, the ache in his chest expanding. He pushed up from his position and sat beside her on the bed, opening one arm. “Come here.” With a sob, Sloane fell against him. He said nothing else for a time, but let her cry, conscious of the ever-dampening state of his shirt. In time, her weeping subsided, but he felt it in her, the stress she’d been under had taken a downward turn, and nothing was worth seeing her go through that. “You know, what I think?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “I think you’ve substituted what ‘might’ happen to me for what you ‘think’ has already happened to you. You’ve thought about it until you can’t see clearly anymore, and I have a solution. We’re going home.” Sloane pulled her head back, her face turned upward. “Home?” “To Mom and Dad.” “We ... we can’t. There’s filming and ...” “And they’ll have to figure that out because one person is more valuable to me than all the jobs in the world ... you.” He tightened his hold on her. “I’ll arrange

everything. We’ll leave as soon as possible.”

CHAPTER 5 The earth curved, infinite, toward the horizon, a tapestry of farms, lakes, and cities woven into a beautiful design. As beautiful as the landscape below was, the shadows of her life encomed everything. Noah took her hand and squeezed it, but Sloane didn’t bother to look his way. He’d been great. He’d yelled at the director over the phone, ending the call with, “Then replace us!” He’d arranged their flight to his parents’ place, packed their bags, and practically toted her onto the plane. None of that changed how blue she was or how fruitless taking her next breath seemed. He tugged at her arm. “Look at me.” Sloane turned bleary eyes upward. “You’re human,” he said. “Allow yourself room to fall.” But she couldn’t afford to fall. She must keep going, no matter what, keep acting at all times. Otherwise ... The truth caught in her breath. Otherwise, this act she lived would crumble, and then what would be left? Nothing. Failure bashed at her brain, and she accepted it. She would never get past this. Noah draped an arm around her and pulled her against him. She succumbed, growing more and more numb as the minutes ed. Darkness swirled all around her, in her mind’s eye laying waste to every accomplishment she’d worked so for. Noah couldn’t fix her. Noah’s family couldn’t fix her. There was nothing out there with enough strength to pull her up, and she no longer cared. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, tears moistening her cheeks. “I’ve lost you ... the part ...” He laid his cheek on top of her head. “I don’t care. Losing you is worse, and

we’re going to get through this.” She didn’t believe that either, and so said nothing else, pulled further and further into bottomless sadness with no way out.

“Mom ... Dad ... This is Sloane Krieger.” Noah made a nervous introduction. He should have called and given them some sort of notice. But how to explain the woman he loved was falling apart? “This is my mom and dad,” he continued. “Arlie and Francine Lee.” Sloane managed a faltering smile, one his parents clearly saw through. They had only to look at her to see she was struggling. He’d spent the flight, going over and over what had happened and had concluded regardless of his new presence in her life, she’d been headed downhill long before he showed up. This made him grateful he’d been there to help her. Her mom wouldn’t, nor, especially, anyone they knew at work. “Please, come in,” his mother said. She reversed, shooing his dad inside ahead of them, and motioned toward the living room. It was a time capsule filled with memories from his youth, the couch in the same place, the round end table to its left, with a scratch where he’d once attempted to write his name. The fireplace, never used, stood silent against the far wall, its hearth filled, instead, with dusty silk flowers his mom had bought when he was sixteen. “I know this is unexpected,” he said. “But we’d like to stay for a few days if that’s okay. She can take my old room, and I’ll sleep on the couch.” His mother nodded but held in the back of her gaze were a lot of questions. Justifiably so. “Ordinarily, we’d be working, but ...” He paused. But they didn’t watch TV and didn’t understand his acting, as he’d told Sloane many times. They only cared he was home, not what had brought him there. Yet the reason mattered because they’d know how to help her, and being truthful with himself, he didn’t. He switched his gaze from theirs to Sloane’s and spoke gently, hoping she’d understand. “I have to tell them,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

Her lack of a response doubled his concern. Taking her hand, he curled it in his. “Sloane’s been under pressure lately. She’s ... depressed.” Calling it by name brought tears to her eyes. Her lip trembled, and soon, her face was damp. His mother rose and stretched out one hand. “Sweetheart, I think you and I need to have us a talk.” Sloane stared at her then across at him. He released his grip and gave her a light shove. She rose, but the weight of her care remained on his shoulders. He looked toward his dad. “Glad to have you home,” his dad said. Noah dropped his head into his hands. “I’m sorry it was unplanned.” “Don’t worry about that. You’re always welcome here. But, son ...” Noah lifted his gaze. “Nothing’s too big for God. We’ve told you that many times. God can carry the world, but we have to let Him handle it. As long as we’re carrying it ourselves, His hands are tied.” He believed that, and where she was concerned, it was easier to let go. With his own life, however, he wanted control. “Dad, what I’ve done ...” His dad waved one hand outward. “Ask God to forgive you and then move on. No matter what you face, you will always have us.” Noah smiled, weak. Was it really that simple? Did one prayer, a handful of words, wipe out years of decisions? “It’s all I know,” he pled. They’d never talked about his acting, not even when he’d announced he was moving to California. They’d traded letters and made phone calls, sharing local

news, how his brothers were doing, or when the next grandchild was due. Never one word about his career. “I know you don’t approve.” “That’s where you’re wrong,” his dad said. “We’ve never been against your profession. I when you were five, you performed in a church play ....” “As a chipmunk,” Noah replied. His dad smiled wide. “An adorable chipmunk. I was never more proud than to hear you sing that song. You’d worked so hard to memorize every word.” “I can’t believe you it.” “How could I forget? You went over that melody a hundred times around here. Besides, though we love your brothers, you were the one we knew would go places.” “You never told me that.” “We didn’t need to. You knew it already. You wanted to become an actor, so we gave you every opportunity.” Uneasy, Noah pushed to his feet, unable to look at his dad for a moment. “You don’t know what I’ve done. I’m not playing a chipmunk.” His dad rose and came up behind. He laid a warm palm on his shoulder. “Noah, look at me.” Noah turned around. His dad’s hand fell to his side. “I know about the soap opera,” he said. “Your mother’s friends told her ... showed her a scene.” His dad coughed. “A racy one.” “You don’t approve,” he repeated. How could he? His father was moralistic. He’d married his mother fresh out of high school and been faithful to her all these years. In his teens, he’d sat him and his brothers down and explained the right and wrongs of relationships and

making godly choices. Given that, how could his father approve of him playing Trace Hampton? “In order for there to be good in the world, there must be bad,” his dad replied. “Otherwise, people don’t recognize the good.” “Meaning what?” “Meaning, God doesn’t bring the darkness. He sheds the light. This woman, you care for her?” Noah’s throat thickened. “I love her. I may have given up the part to bring her here. It’s worth it.” His dad gave a gentle smile and laid one hand atop his head. “Then the boy I was proud of as a chipmunk hasn’t changed at all. He may have gotten off-center for a while, but he knows how to find the path again.” “Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it,” Noah quoted the familiar verse. Had he chosen the broad road over the narrow one? His father seemed to sense his question. “God places people in every profession to shed light there. Maybe some of your actions haven’t been correct, but I think you know that. I also think you need to ask yourself one thing. If you hadn’t taken that part, then where would your friend be right now?” His dad’s words having circled around to his own, moments ago, he quivered, his fingers curling into fists. “Now, what?” he asked. What came next? If acting was over, how did they themselves? He wouldn’t leave her behind. His dad patted his head. “Now, we pray and let God do the work.”

The Lees’ kitchen, if lifted from their house and placed on a set, would have made a perfect backdrop for a nineteen-eighties sitcom. Mauve vinyl in a checkerboard pattern stretched from oak cabinet to oak cabinet, the doors adorned with gold knobs and, overhead, a buzzing fluorescent light. Ruffled window curtains in blue and white covered all but a tiny view of a postage-stamp back yard. Francine Lee urged Sloane into a seat around an aluminum table then moved to the stove. She set a tea kettle on to boil and took down two coffee mugs, circa nineteen fifty. “My mother used to always say, ‘Everything can be solved with a cup of tea.’ I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it certainly helps me think.” She scooted a ceramic jar forward from its place on the counter, removing the lid. “You prefer lemon green tea or peach black tea?” Sloane cleared her throat. “E-either is fine.” Her voice echoed in her head. “Green tea has restorative properties, so we’ll start there,” Francine said. She glanced toward the kettle, rumbling on the stove. “And what is tea without cookies?” At this remark, she shifted to an upper cabinet, pulling out a round, metal tin. Sloane’s memories flooded in. “My mom bought those,” she said. Her mom, who she’d dismissed in a fit of rage. Tears leaked out. Despite their argument, she loved her mom and wished they could see eye to eye. Besides, she was right. She had dragged Noah down. She’d known she would from the start, and she’d succeeded. Mrs. Lee popped the top off and set the can in front of her. “Go ahead,” she said. “Eat all you like. I know us girls have to watch our weight.” She spun sideways and posed, one hand raised over her head. “But we also have to keep our mental fitness, and I don’t know anything that helps that more than sugar.” A tiny ray of joy flitted through Sloane’s mind, only to fade as quickly as it’d risen. Sugar wouldn’t help, nor tea, nor anything else Mrs. Lee could cook up. The kettle began a low-tuned whistle that accelerated to an ear-blasting shriek, and Mrs. Lee lifted it from the burner and filled the cups. She shut off the stove and set the kettle to the side.

“Now, I wanted to talk to you, and that means both sides have to share.” Carrying the cups to the table, she pushed one towards Sloane and followed with a porcelain sugar pot. “But first, I want you to listen. I know we don’t know each other yet, but I know my son. If Noah brought you here then you matter to him, and those he’s fond of, he’ll go to the ends of the earth for.” Sloane’s heart warmed. He’d done that, but she didn’t deserve it. Or understand it. She’d given him nothing worth his efforts. “Plus, my heart says you’ve taken on too much responsibility ... could be for yourself ... could be for him.” Sloane started at the accuracy of Mrs. Lee’s words. “How ... how can you tell?” Mrs. Lee smiled softly. She seemed to consider something, then scooted her chair closer and took Sloane’s hands in hers, cupping them together. “Sweetheart, all those doubts you’ve had ... I’m never one to push faith off on anyone, but no matter what you think you’ve done, God loves you.” Sloane chewed on the inside of her cheek. God. Noah had said they had strong faith. But she didn’t, nor have any knowledge of how to get any. Why would God care about her anyway? Surely, he knew how she’d lived. “I ... know you don’t approve of ... of what I do ...” she began. Mrs. Lee’s eyes grew reflective. “You’ll find no judgment here. As far as we’re concerned, you’re a lovely young woman my Noah thought needed time at home, and I think he’s right. Sometimes the pressures of life become too much, and we need help to carry on. I’ve leaned on Mr. Lee, and Noah’s leaned on us. We all lean on God, every day.” “I don’t think God has time for me,” Sloane replied. Saying so was strangely freeing, but still, she expected a rebuke of some sort for it. Mrs. Lee merely chuckled. “What’s so ... funny?” Sloane asked. Mrs. Lee opened her arms and scooped Sloane to her chest. “You come all this

way ... I suspect, on Noah’s suggestion ... and you’d doubt that? God saw who you’d need way before you knew you needed them.” Her arms compressed. “Let us help you get through this. Wherever God takes you afterward, we’ll love you just the same.” Sloane’s eyes misted with tears, and she pulled in a shaky breath. Mrs. Lee patted her back in an even circle. “You go ahead and cry,” she said. “Us girls have to let it out now and then.”

“Hey.” “Hey.” The silence between her and Noah grew awkward. Sloane stared at him, and he stared back at her. A week had ed in as normal a lifestyle as she’d ever experienced. In a strange way, she saw more of God in that than any words his parents could say. She wasn’t sure what she believed, nor felt clearheaded yet, but did know life moved on. He reached for her hand, breaking the tension. “Sit with me.” She obeyed, not knowing what else to do. Folding their fingers together, he pushed one toe against the concrete, sending the porch swing backward. She shut her eyes and, over time, leaned left until her cheek lay on his shoulder. “I love you,” he said. “You say that now ...” She hated herself for the remark. Noah stopped the motion of the swing and raised her hand to his lips. “I will say that forever. You are the love of my life. You, Sloane Krieger. I want to hold your hand, look in your eyes. I want to make love to you one day ... forever.” Despite her sadness, a smile emerged. He dipped his head and kissed her. Her eyes misted with tears. “That was not an act.” He shook his head. “No more acting.” “You ... you mean around me?” He didn’t respond, and she freed her hand and grasped his sleeve, giving him a shake. “Noah?” He sighed. “The director called, said they’re desperate for us, and I told him your health was more important to me. He threatened to replace us again. I said, ‘So do it.’ Strange thing is, I got a phone call from someone else afterward.” “A ... a phone call from who?”

When he didn’t explain, she tugged at him again. “Mind if I keep it to myself for a while? I think I want to pray about it.” She nodded, reluctant. He wrapped one arm around her and pushed the swing again. They swayed back and forth in silence. “Tomorrow, I want to take you somewhere,” he said, at last. “Okay. Should I dress up?” “No. Be yourself. That’s all I ever want.”

Noah stood center stage as if the theater seats were full and a dozen lights on his face. One arm extended, the other tucked against his chest, he raised his voice, altering his tone to one deeper, more masculine. “I conjure you, by that which you profess, howe'er you come to know it, answer me: Though you untie the winds and let them fight against the churches; though the yesty waves confound and swallow navigation up; Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down; Though castles topple on their warders' heads; Though palaces and pyramids do slope their heads to their foundations; though the treasure of nature's germens tumble all together, even till destruction sicken; answer me to what I ask you.” “Macbeth,” Sloane said. “You played MacBeth?” He nodded, a smile on his face. “Easter Summerlin was the first witch. Nora Good, the second. I can’t who played the third.” He shrugged. “I had this ridiculous costume, looked more like Henry the Eighth.” “But you the lines.” He changed his pose, holding his hands outward, his palms turned up. “A child said, ‘What is the grass?’ fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, a scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped, bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?” “I don’t recognize that one,” she said. He dropped his arms. “That’s because it’s a poem. Walt Whitman. He was an interesting character. He published ‘Leaves of Grass’ on his own, didn’t wait for anyone’s approval.” “That sounds like you. Have you ever needed approval?” Noah dropped off the stage, leaping over the edge and took a seat at her side. “My parents’ ... yours.” “Mine?”

He nodded and lifted his hands to her cheeks, cradling them. “That first day on set I was so nervous. All I could think was, would you like me, or would I fall short?” Her breath blew warm on his wrists, her eyes moistening. “It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were!” he quoted softly. Sloane’s lips trembled. Overcome, he stilled them with his own. “The orchard,” he prompted after. “Holly and Trace find each other for the first time.” Noah cleared his throat. “If I have you, Holly, I have everything. From this day forward, it’s you and I against the world. No one ... no one will tear us apart.” “My parents will try,” Sloane replied, her voice weak. “Let them. There is a power stronger than they are, one they can’t ever break ... my love for you.” “But what if ... what if we get off center?” she asked. Noah smoothed her temples with his thumbs. “The love we have will bring us back together. There is no Trace without Holly ...” “And no Holly without Trace.”

CHAPTER 6 Mrs. Lee pressed the Bible in Sloane’s lap, tapping the page. “Now, you read that. Greatest love story ever written.” She took a seat opposite. Her husband sat in an armchair a few feet distant, his legs propped up. Noah had taken a place at her side. His hand drew figure eights on her back. Sloane bent her head, scanning the words silently. “Out loud,” Mrs. Lee said. “You’re an actress. I want to hear it.” Surprised, Sloane eyed her then cleared her throat. “I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me. I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.” She paused. “Wow, that’s ....” Unexpected. Mrs. Lee chuckled. “Keep going.” Sloane looked down again. “The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice. My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.” “They say,” Noah’s father began, “that the woman Solomon loved so much wasn’t one of his wives at all, but someone common ... one of the people.”

“That would have been huge. Wouldn’t it?” she asked. He nodded. Sloane leaned back. “Why would they put this poem in here then? I mean, I’m not up on my Bible history, but why a love story in with a bunch of dos and don’ts.” “Well, to answer that, you need to read something else,” Mrs. Lee replied. She recaptured the book, flipping the thin pages, and returned it to her lap. “Start with verse four.” Sloane ran her finger down the column, halting at the mentioned verse. “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.” She halted. “I’m not sure I understand.” “Read the next verse, dear,” Francine Lee prompted. Sloane began again. “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.” She reread the age beneath her breath then lifted her gaze. “Who is it talking about? Who would go through all that?” “John three, sixteen,” Noah replied, his voice loud in her ear. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” She twisted around to see his face. “But wasn’t the other age written way before that?” He nodded. “It isn’t that the Son of God happened to be on earth and accidently died. It’s that God sent Him specifically to die because He loved us so much. He knew the cost and did it anyway.” She gazed downward. Closing the Bible, she ran her thumb over the gold imprint. “It’s a love story,” she said. She lifted her head. “Why didn’t I ever

know that?” “We know what we want to know most times,” Mr. Lee replied. “We pick and choose what we hear, discounting anything that might make us feel guilty. But right and wrong is black and white. It’s people that shade it gray.” Her face warmed. “And what I’ve done ...” Mrs. Lee flapped one hand. “Is forgiven. That’s the point I wanted to make. That no matter how bad your life seems to be, God already knows what it’s like to be there and provided a way of escape.” Mrs. Lee sat forward, taking Sloane’s hands in hers. “You may not know what direction you’ll go in, and I won’t say if it’s acting or not. But you don’t have to feel guilty anymore, God’s already taken care of it.”

“I want to ask you something,” Noah said, “and I want you to answer me truthfully.” He was as serious as she’d ever seen him, his face straight, his eyes deep. Four months, they’d been here, and he’d shielded her from the outside world during most of it. She didn’t have to ask to know she’d been replaced, and him as well. The studio would never wait this long for any star, no matter how long they’d been there or how hard they’d worked. Truthfully, she didn’t miss it at all, but was aware they couldn’t keep staying with his parents. “I’ve been offered a part in a movie.” His expression didn’t change, but his cheeks flushed. “A movie?” He nodded. “It’s ... big, a war film. I can’t believe they even considered me.” “I can,” she said. “You’re a good actor, worth way more than Eternal Flare.” He smiled softly. “You don’t think so?” she asked, unsure of his expression. He dipped his chin. “No, I do.” He didn’t sound selfish at all. But then, there wasn’t a selfish bone in his body. He’d given up everything to bring her here, without a qualm, or so it seemed. At the same time, she knew acting mattered to him. He’d proven that by quoting scenes from plays and books she did and didn’t know. He’d also described the soap’s history in amazing detail. Noah’s mind was a sponge, full of everything he’d ever done, every part he’d ever played, whereas hers was more like a sieve. “You want to take it,” she said. He nodded. “But I made one condition with them, and that’s the one I have to run past you.”

“I can’t see as how I’m involved. You can do what you want without me.” His gaze grew sharp, and he sucked in a breath. “I can do nothing without you,” he said. “That’s just the thing ... I want to do something spur-of-the-moment and outrageous before I agree.” The sounds of early evening spread all around them, the hiss and creak of insects, the hum of the night air. Twilight captured the landscape, hiding houses and cars, and soon, she couldn’t see Noah’s face. He cleared his throat. “I’m unprepared. I don’t have what I need right now, what any guy with sense would come with. Plus, I thought I’d do something dramatic when this day arrived, but I think instead, I’ll quote someone else. ‘Make me the happiest man alive, Sloane Krieger, and become my wife.’” She reversed, tripping over the edge of the walkway, and falling on her rump. He was at her side in an instant, and she laid back, the grass beneath her, Noah’s face hovering overhead. “I won’t go without you,” he said. “That’s the condition. I asked for time. I’m tired of the couch anyway ... and before you protest, I know ideally, we’d date for five years then be engaged for five more. That is what people do nowadays, but I need you.” “No, you don’t.” He was strong and capable, smart. She was washed up. “You still think you have nothing to offer but becoming strong again takes time. What took you years to fall into, takes just as long to climb out. But one day, you’ll know that you’re the beautiful, sweet woman I fell in love with. Say yes. I talked with Mom and Dad. We can do it while we’re here. When we return, we’ll sell your place, buy something new, fresh ... whatever you want. You don’t have to work. You can take up a hobby.” “A hobby?” she asked. “Cross stich? Crochet?” He laughed once, then his tone became husky. “And we’ll spend every night with me proving how much I love you.”

“You’re a silly-headed romantic,” she said, “and Sloane Lee sounds like a bad adverb.” They both laughed then. The noise subsiding, he gathered her in his arms. “Be my adverb,” he said. She giggled. “That’s so ... dumb.” But his grip tightened, and he pulled her close. “Say yes.” Her pulse swishing loudly in her ears, their breaths uniting, they lay there in silence. “Yes,” she said. “Holly?” Noah asked. “Yes, Trace?” “You think one day we’ll be old and gray and still in love like this?” “I don’t know,” Sloane replied. “We’re sixteen and I can’t picture it. Maybe.”

One year later A spattering of applause erupted from the eager college drama students seated at her feet. In various stages of costume, this one shoeless, that one sporting a corset with a leather jacket overtop, they looked more like the cast of a comedy sitcom than kids seriously considering an acting career. Sloane smiled, the uncertainty she’d fought all morning, fading away. “My name is Sloane Krieger Lee,” she said. “You probably know my husband, Noah, from the box office hit, Dance at Dawn.” She held in a laugh at the corporate sigh of several girls in the circle. “He wanted to come himself but is filming in Mexico and asked me to take his place. I’m not sure exactly what advice to give. I spent several hours making notes, jotting down this or that from my past, and decided instead ... the moment I walked in here, in fact ... to focus on the future.” Her palms damp, she wiped them on her slacks. “You are the future. That sounds corny, I suppose. But I think adults don’t take it seriously enough. What actions we make are observed by those around us and usually imitated.” A girl in the front, pigtails swinging on either side of her head, raised her hand. “Yes?” Sloane asked. “I seeing you on the soap ... Eternal Flare ... that must’ve been awesome.” A tinge of sadness washed over her and lifted just as quick. She had no reason to go back there, no reason to feel like she tossed anything away, because she had the best of everything now ... a loving husband, a beautiful house overlooking the California coast ... her hand strayed to her waist. A baby. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone that yet. “It was, and it wasn’t,” Sloane replied. “I met Noah there, but I fell apart there. I let the opinions of everyone around me tell me who and what I should be.”

“How’d you get over it?” a boy to the right asked. “The news said you collapsed.” She nodded. “I did. I got over it because somebody loved me, more than one somebody,” she added. “I found faith, in myself, in God, in life, and along the way discovered who I really was inside. I guess that’s what I want to say the most ... that acting’s wonderful. I’ve been offered some parts. I’ve turned them down so far. I don’t think I’m ready yet. But one day I will be, and when that happens, I’ll that as high as I might climb, I still need others to hold me up.” “Mrs. Lee?” The girl spoke again. Sloane looked her way. “What’s it like to live with your husband?” Sloane couldn’t help but laugh. “Wonderful. It’s wonderful. I couldn’t ask for better.” The End

LOVE & ROSES

From the back cover: Ian McKinney’s wife tried to kill him, and that made up his mind for good. He’s out of the dating game. He has friends, a comfortable job, other things to fill his life. Then Allison Hoff walks into it. She’s never recovered from the death of her spouse and is now trying to somehow move on. Maybe if she loses a few pounds, builds her self-esteem ... But when she asks him to fill in as her date to the Fourth of July police dance, what seems like a beneficial arrangement to them both proves to be very, very wrong.

PROLOGUE The cop at the door looked like he’d eaten something that disagreed with him, and judging by his physique, whatever that item was had been coated in icing and loaded with calories. Ian gripped the door knob and attempted to look more awake than he felt. “Ian McKinney?” the cop asked, his voice brusque. Behind him stood six more policemen of similar shape and size, all in various stages of baldness. Which begged the question why so many cops looked alike. “Yeah?” Ian replied, dismissing his wayward thought. “We need you to come with us. Your wife has contracted to have you killed.” His breath left his lungs, and for a second, Ian wondered if there was any air left on the planet. Wheezing, lightheaded, he stumbled backward, falling down on an armchair. Steph had hired someone ... t-to kill him? “We’re short on time, Mr. McKinney. If you could get your shoes ...” He nodded, barely aware of his next few movements. Flip flops. T-shirt. Police car. And moments later, the sight of his front door receding in the distance. Shuttled away from home, he gazed numbly ahead at yet another shiny cop pate. His thoughts turned over and back again, unable to grasp reality. What had he done that Steph could hate so badly? They’d been married just short of a year, and sure, they’d argued some recently, but all couples did that. Relationships weren’t easy all the time. Were they? Granted, she hated his job. She’d made that plain. But that was unfair of her because she’d known what he did for a living when they met. Yet within months after their marriage, it became unacceptable. You’re around too many women. Part of his job, and it meant nothing. He’d married her, not anyone else. Besides, being faithful was part of his beliefs. No man worth anything cheated.

His gaze widened. Her ex had cheated. He should have seen that one. But there again her own words accused her. I know I have things to work on. His first marriage, her second, and she’d brought along with her a pile of baggage. He hadn’t held that against her, but instead, had tried to show her things could be different this time. I guess not. The police sedan pulled up to the front of the station, and another officer, the first one with hair, motioned him into the bustling entrance. “Please, follow me.” Obedient, Ian tagged at his heels, around disarrayed cubicles, into a small room at the rear. “Take a seat. Can I get you something? Coffee? Soda?” the cop asked. “Coffee. Black,” Ian replied. And stiff. At this point, whatever caffeine he could pump into his system was warranted. The officer disappeared, returning minutes later with a Styrofoam cup full of a watery, black liquid. Ian took a sip and grimaced. The officer settled himself in a chair. “Mr. McKinney, we were notified of your wife’s intentions by a parolee. She apparently solicited him for anyone he might know, and he told her he’d make inquiries.” He flipped open a file folder on the fold-out table in front of them and ran one fat finger down the page. “He notified us instead, and we sent our man in to pretend he was the hire. We have all her words on tape.” Dazed. Ian stared outward and yet at nothing at all. She’d actually done this. “I know this is a shock,” the cop continued. “But right now, they’re in the process of arresting her. They wanted her to believe it was done, that you are gone, and get her reaction. Then she’ll be told the truth and arrested.” After she’s given rope to hang herself. Smart. Ian rubbed one hand through his hair. “She’ll be brought here for processing.”

Divorce. He would be divorced, and he’d never planned for that, never thought he’d become one of the statistics. His parents had been married fifty-two years, his grandparents longer than that. He had good examples to live by with plenty of godly counsel as a foundation and what he’d thought was love for her. “Relax,” the cop said. “This is going to take some time.” He rose and left the room, the door swinging closed behind him. Relax? How did he do that, knowing his wife, who’d pledged to honor and love him ’til death, had chosen to speed up that death. For what? Money? He had a small life insurance policy, but that wouldn’t get her far. Freedom? If she was that unhappy, they could have worked something out. He leaned back in the chair, resting his head on the hard plastic edge for what felt like hours. He startled when the door opened and the cop returned. The officer waved him upright. “Follow me.” Trudging after him, Ian wound around the sea of desks to another room of similar size and came to a halt. There his wife sat. Pony-tail stuck through her ball cap, tight, pink tank top, running shorts. “You’re alive?” she said. “I’m so glad.” He eyed her. Was she for real? “They said you were dead, but there you are. Oh, Ian, I’m so glad.” He made no move, couldn’t move. “Ian?” He crossed one arm over his chest and clasped it on the forearm of the other, slowly reversing his steps away. “Ian? Don’t go. I’m so glad you’re okay.” No, she wasn’t. Because she’d tried to have him killed. His wife who he’d stood at the altar with, lain beside at night, and spoken of the future with – their future – had hired somebody to snuff him out.

He was done with females. Better to live alone than risk his heart to anyone else. Things simply weren’t love and roses anymore. That was reserved for the past, black and white old-timey images that, like his marriage, would never return.

CHAPTER 1 Despite her sixty-odd years, Mrs. Schumacher’s grip could take down a bear. Or at least a grown man. Ian McKinney well imagined her pinching many a young boy’s ear and putting him in line. “Ooh,” she said, a cackle rising in her throat. “I may be old, but I’m not dead.” She dug her fingers into his upper arm and squeezed. A crooked grin arose on his lips. “See you next week, Mrs. Schumacher.” “Betty. Call me Betty, and I’ll call you anytime.” He shook his head and chuckled, one eye on her exit. “She scares me,” Matthew Forrester said from the workout bench to Ian’s left. “She ought to. Somebody’s got to watch over you.” This remark earned him a laugh and a sweaty gym towel tossed toward his head. It fell far short, flattening in the aisle. Ian kicked it away and sat down on the padded seat of a similar bench. “You done for today?” Matt asked. Ian swigged from a water bottle he plucked from between his feet. “No.” He tossed his head, flicking sweaty brown locks out of his eyes. “I have a new client, should be here in ...” “Are you Ian McKinney?” A female voice speaking to the back of his head turned him around. The girl, a petite blonde somewhere in her early thirties, sporting fitness wear straight off the rack, smiled at him uncertainly. “I am. You must be Allison.” “Allison Hoff,” she said. “Your next victim.” “A sense of humor. That’s a good start.”

She wrinkled her nose, a definite sparkle in her eyes. “Well, then let me say I’m prepared for physical torture, but not to smell like dirty socks.” “The dirty-sock scent would be my friend here,” Ian replied, jerking his chin at Matt. She transferred her gaze. “On that note,” Matt replied. “I’m off to the showers.” He swiped the gym towel from the floor and ambled down the aisle. Ian rose, wiping the back of his hand across his brow. “So where do we start?” Allison asked. Ian leaned on one hip and eyed her. She wasn’t that overweight, more curvy, but it wasn’t unusual for woman with that body type to hire a personal trainer. In fact, they tended to be the most self-conscious. “We start with your goals,” he said. She pursed two plump pink lips and squinted. “Goals?” “Yes, what do you want out of this?” “Well,” she replied. “That’s complicated. My friend, Cindy, said it would boost my self-esteem.” She didn’t look like a girl who’d have low self-esteem. She had an attractive face and light-brown eyes. She certainly hadn’t acted embarrassed to speak to him. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would your self-esteem be low?” he asked. She exhaled. “That started when my husband died.” She stated it so frankly, he had no time to react, and she gave him no time to respond. “I was depressed, so I spent the last year and a half eating, and put on a few pounds. Not too proud of that.” She paused. “Guess that sounds like a sob story.”

He considered his answer. “No, it sounds like you loved him.” She glanced at her feet. “I did. I do.” She inhaled, long and deep. “Getting all teary-eyed here.” He offered a sympathetic smile. “Maybe if I felt better about myself, I’d want to get out more, but as it is ... I don’t know. That isn’t much of a goal. Is it? People want me to date again, but ... what’s wrong with being single?” She silenced then, and the hope in her eyes brought a lump to his throat. “Truth?” he asked. She nodded, the motion sending her pony tail swinging. “I hear the same thing.” “You?” He ran one hand through his hair, making spiked tufts. “I’d think you could have your pick.” He snorted. “My own choice. My ex went psycho and hired someone to kill me.” Her eyes spun wide. “Seriously?” He nodded. “Six months ago. Kind of ruined me towards relationships.” “I guess so,” she replied. She pulled herself up taller, running her fingers down the legs of her shorts. “We’re the pair, huh?” He gave a soft smile. “Sounds like it.” “Tell you what,” she said. The twinkle in her eye returned, and she curved one hand over the weight bar at his elbow. “Next time, either one of us are in a jam where dating is concerned, we agree to help the other out.” Based on her expression, she was serious, and it wasn’t such a bad idea. It might

relieve some of the pressure every time someone asked when he was moving on. He had no plans to move on after what Stephanie did. Trusting a woman with his heart was no longer an option. She stuck out her hand. “Deal?” He took hold of it, compressing her fingers lightly. “Deal.”

Allison dashed down the gym stairs to street level, her cell phone pressed tight to her cheek. Afternoon traffic temporarily drowned out her conversation, so she halted until seated in her car. “I think I’m going to hurt in places I’ve never hurt before,” she said. Cindy laughed. “It’s good for you.” That was doubtful. But if it’d work off these few extra pounds, that would make her efforts worth it. “How was the trainer? Tough?” “Like-minded,” she replied. “Oh?” That had been interesting. She’d had no intention of pouring her woes out on him, but there he’d been, and it had all fallen out. “Yeah. Long story, but he’s against dating, too.” Probably he didn’t want his past tossed around town any more than she did, so she didn’t say why. She’d had enough celebrity over Rick’s death to last a lifetime. People meant well, and they’d been kind for the most part; but having it all over the news only dragged it out that much longer and brought out the kooks. “Ah. Fellow-sufferers,” Cindy said. “He’s short and stubby then, balding.” “Psht, More like, lean and muscular with dark-hair. A nice sight to see for thirty minutes of my day.” “So you’re not asleep,” Cindy replied. Not asleep. But not interested. Nobody ... nobody could replace Rick. They’d been high school sweethearts, destined for marriage from almost the day they met. Her biggest regret was not having children. They’d put it off while he rose in the ranks of the police force. Always, next year would be better. Then he was

killed during a bank robbery, and her life changed forever. “Where’d you go?” Cindy’s voice leaked into her thoughts. “Sorry.” “Hey, don’t go there,” Cindy said. “You loved Rick, but we’ve talked about this. You don’t have to live life alone.” Allison inhaled, the air stale with old coffee. “I don’t have to replace him either,” she replied. The heated interior pulled her skin taut. She stuck the key in the ignition, reclining further in the sudden rush of cold air. “No one’s asking you to replace him. They’re asking you to see yourself as a beautiful woman who doesn’t have to live her life roaming around in that huge house with no one there to keep her company but an old cat and a bunch of pictures that make her cry.” Allison said nothing in response. Cindy was right. That is how she spent most of her days, staring at those pictures and wishing she could bring him back. As a result, slowly but surely, her will to change had withered. She’d accepted her new lot in life as where she was meant to be. “Hey, I’m doing the exercise-thing,” she replied, “and the trainer is tough, but fair. Plus, we made a deal.” “A deal?” Despite her poor mood, Allison smiled. “Yeah, we agreed to be each other’s date. That way no feelings have to be involved.” Cindy’s lack of response worried her. “That’s good because the Fourth of July is coming up,” she said, at last. “No.” Allison’s reply came from outside of herself. “I’m not going. I don’t want to go, especially not alone.”

“So ask the trainer. I thought that was your deal.” “If I show up with someone, they’ll talk.” A sorry argument. They’d talk if she didn’t come as well. They’d planned something to honor Rick. Cindy’s breath swished in the phone. “They’ll talk because you’ve become a hermit. Allie, I love you, and I loved Rick. Everyone loved Rick. He was a man’s man, a hero of the community, the best guy on the planet, but you can’t stay inside that house anymore. The guys on the force love you. For Rick’s sake, you have to show up.” Allison mashed a hand to her waist to still the butterflies in her gut and pulled in a shaky breath. For Rick. Rick deserved all the attention, all the remembrance he could get, but how was her being there on someone else’s arm the right way to do it? “Ask Mister ....” Cindy extended the word. “McKinney.” “Ask Mr. McKinney, and go. Think of it as you taking baby steps. No one’s forcing you to run full steam ahead.” A good thing because she’d fall down on her face and break something. Allison disconnected the call and dropped her phone in the tray. Ask a guy she’d only just met to escort her to the Fourth of July police dance a few weeks from now. Should she? And how? Exactly what was the best way to bring that up? She had until tomorrow to figure it out.

“I can’t believe I came back.” Ian glanced up from retying his shoelaces into the gentle gaze of Allison Hoff. “That’s the first positive step,” he replied. “Returning.” She smiled, and it lit up her face. A good look for her. “And the second?” He stomped his foot on the commercial carpet. “Working out the muscles that are screaming right now.” She laughed, light. “You mean my butt.” His eyebrow shot up, and a grin crawled onto his face. “That’s what hurts the most. I had the hardest time putting my shoes on. I finally propped them on the footstool, which is really sad. Cesar, he’s my cat, was no help at all. He just sat there and stared at me, his tail swishing.” “Cats are like that.” “You have a cat?” she asked. “No. But I did when I was a boy. Big, fat gray tom named Taxi.” “Taxi?” He laughed. “Yeah. My mom brought him home in one, and the name stuck.” She moved her gaze across the gym. “So what’s the plan today?” “We’re going to stretch first. Let’s go over there.” He motioned her toward an open area with a rubber-padded floor. “Start with the set I showed you yesterday.” She stood tall, her feet together, and stretched the right one forward in a lunge. “Ow. That’s ... Ow.” He smiled. “Keep your feet in line.”

She bobbled, readjusting her stance, and tried again. But this time was worse, and with a squeak, she toppled over on the mat. Stunned, she lay there gazing up at him. “Are you free on the Fourth?” He scratched his temple and slouched on one hip. “Of July?” “I have this thing, and I know we only just talked about it. But ... it’s ... it’s for my husband. Well, sort of. The police dance. Am I making sense?” He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet. “Sort of. You need a date?” She blew out a breath. “Yes. I’m told I have to go. No one expects me to bring anyone, but I know what will happen if I don’t. I’ll end up with all the overweight, bald, sixty-year-olds with two left feet, or hooked up with the guy from evidence, and he scares me.” She shivered. “But, oh, gosh, maybe you don’t dance. In which case, I’ve embarrassed you and ...” He smiled. “Do you always babble when you’re nervous?” “Rick used to tell me that.” Her eyes moistened. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.” Tears skated down her cheeks anyway, and a sob escaped. She hiccupped. “This ... is ... so hard.” He reached for her and tucked her to his chest. For a moment, neither one spoke. Then she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ve wasted five whole minutes,” she said, looking away. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go. I don’t either. We should get to work ...” She spun around, but he took hold of her shoulder and halted her escape. She was a lovely woman with a broken heart. What was the harm in accepting? It’d get her out of jam and him out of the house. “Allison.” He tugged gently, spinning her in his direction. Her eyes were red, her cheeks damp. “Rick was a lucky guy to have someone love him that much,” he said. She curled her lip between her teeth. “I ask myself what I did wrong all the time,” he continued. “I mean, she hated

me enough to want me dead. But I never find the answer.” “You loved her?” He lowered his hand to his side. “I thought I did, but looking back, maybe not like I should have. She was jealous all the time, saw me working with different women and thought it meant something. It never did. It’s part of my job.” “You’re good at your job,” Allison said. He gave a soft smile. “Thanks.” “And I don’t see anything wrong with you,” she continued. “I’ll bet you’d make a great husband for someone.” He didn’t respond for a moment, then exhaled. “If you need a date, count me in.” She widened her gaze. “R-really?” “That was the deal. Wasn’t it?” “Yeah, but I mean ... I was all weepy and crying on you. Plus, they’re all going to stare and ask who you are. They are policemen.” He paused, then angled her toward the machines. “Just so long as they’re not telling me my ex-wife’s out of jail, we’ll be good.”

CHAPTER 2 “A soda and the special, minus the onions.” Ian closed his menu and handed it to the waitress, then transferred his gaze to Matt across the table. The waitress tucked the plastic-wrapped paper beneath her elbow and scribbled on the order form. “Yes sir. I’ll have that right out to you.” A child at the table to the right let out an ear-splitting squeal, and his mother promptly clamped a hand over his mouth. “What’s up with you and the new girl?” Matt asked, exchanging apologetic looks with the child’s mother. “The cute blonde?” “You mean, Allison.” Matt lifted his eyebrows. “First names already?” Ian ignored the inference. “She’s hurting. Seems wrong to call her Ms. Hoff.” “So she’s single?” “Widowed. Her husband died. He was a cop.” Matt’s face changed, some knowledge flickering across it. He tapped his finger on his brow. “Hoff. Hoff. Hoff?” Ian frowned. “Yeah. Why?” “That was the guy killed in the bank heist on Third. You . The press dubbed the robber the Old Man on of that mask he wore, which made him look like a senior citizen?” Ian groaned. “Right. Gees. That was huge. Year ago, wasn’t it?” Matt took a swig of his soda. “Longer. Maybe year and a half.” He hung his head and traced his finger through the water puddled beneath his glass. “How awful for her. I wish people wouldn’t act like they do.” He glanced up, guilt framing his face. “Sorry, dude. I always forget.”

Ian waved him off. “Somebody needs to forget. Anyhow, back to your comment. There’s nothing ‘up’ with us, except we’re both out of the dating game. Different reasons, same pressure.” “I’ve never pressured you.” “No, you haven’t, and my thanks.” Ian offered a playful salute. The waitress returned and dropped a drink in front of him. “Your order will be up in about five,” she said. Ian acknowledged her words with a dip of his head. “Allison and I have made a beneficial agreement.” “Beneficial?” The question sat clear on Matt’s face, and Ian rushed to explain. “Yeah, either of us needs a date, we’ve agreed to fill in. I’ve said I’ll take her to the big police dance on the Fourth.” “You think that’s a good idea?” Matt’s second question ed the first, still worn on his face. “Why wouldn’t it? Besides, I’d be a heel to refuse.” Matt’s reply was slow arriving. “You don’t want to be her rebound,” he finally said. Ian rubbed his thumb over the bridge of his nose. “No one’s rebounding. That’s the point. I trust no one. She trusts no one. And I can relieve the pressure on her at what will be a difficult event.” The waitress returned, his meal suspended on a plastic tray, and settled a plate in front of him. Ian took a bite. His mouth full, he rolled over Matt’s concerns. He couldn’t see the problem. Allison definitely needed a friend. He could imagine it had taken a lot of courage for her to even ask him. His gaze roamed the restaurant and caught sight of a familiar figure winding her

way through the mesh of tables. “Speaking of ...” he began. “Allison.” He waved one hand upward. She paused mid-step. A woman of similar age, standing just behind her, also glanced their way. Allison’s smile emerged, and she altered her direction. Circling the tables, she popped up at their side. “Ian.” She glanced down at the Styrofoam container in her hand, her cheeks pink. “Oh boy, busted.” “Why’s that?” Her friend arrived, a leggy brunette with a figure to die for, something Matt noticed. Allison motioned towards the girl. “This is Cindy, and this is Ian McKinney, my personal trainer.” Cindy inclined her head. “And this is ... I’m sorry. I recognize you, but I don’t know your name.” “Matt.” Matt waved at the bench seat. “Won’t you sit? We have plenty of room.” “We ... we don’t want to interrupt,” she replied. “No interruption.” Ian slid over, and Allison settled on his left. Similarly, Cindy sat beside Matt. Allison brought her gaze back to the container and ducked her head. “I must confess. I had dessert.” He suppressed a laugh. “Which one?” She peered up at him beneath long, blonde lashes. “The cheesecake? I only ate half,” she said, brighter. “I figure if I draw it out maybe it’s not so bad. Dumb, huh?” He quashed the laughter bubbling up. “So long as you didn’t have the chocolate explosion.”

Her face colored, and she dipped her chin. “Well, Cindy kinda did. I wanted to celebrate my progress,” she blurted. “I guess I should have celebrated with the fruit cup. But honestly, who celebrates with fruit? Yippee, look what I did, now have a grape.” This made everyone laugh. The quiet that descended afterward was awkward, however. Cindy stood to her feet. “Doll, I love you, but I think I’ll move on. I have all those papers to grade.” She glanced at him. “School teacher.” “Nice to meet you, Cindy,” he replied. “And both of you.” She turned to go, but Matt rose on her heels. “Hey, wait, I’ll walk you out. Dude ...” He glanced at Ian. “See you tomorrow.” “That was a setup,” Allison said, after they’d left. He smiled at her. “Looks like it.” “Which makes this weird because we’re not dating. Maybe I should switch sides of the table.” “You’re fine,” he said. He extended an arm around her shoulders. “How’s that? Now, everyone thinks we’re dating even more.” Her eyes rested on his face, the reflection in them miles deep. “I can’t see why your ex ever ... Should I say this?” “It’s okay. I don’t know why she did it. I’ll probably never know why.” Ian attempted to make light of it. “The one time I talked to her she denied anything happened. Although my lawyer said she had a boyfriend.” Allison’s voice dropped to a murmur. “That only makes it a bigger mystery. Why cheat when you’ve got a good thing?” Her attention seemed to wander. “Tell me about him,” he said. She breathed in. “Rick? We met in high school, married the year after we graduated. Too young, I know, but hormones, you understand.”

He nodded. “We held off on having kids because he wanted to become something first. He was driven, very ionate about the police force.” Ian coughed. “I ... didn’t realize who he was until Matt pointed it out.” She glanced up. “It was such a big mess. Everyone tried to help me out, but I only felt smothered. And with all the news coverage ... it was like it wouldn’t go away. No one understood I only wanted space. Now, it’s like I have too much space.” She sighed. “Rick left me set up with enough money to live off of for a couple years. Plus, there’s his death benefits. Eventually, I’ll have to figure out what to do, but I haven’t any skills really. I ... I’m just a housewife, only now, I’m not.” Head hung, she folded her hands together in her lap. “Some dinner companion I am, talking about myself. Let’s talk about you instead. How’d you meet your ex?” “Stephanie?” “Was that her name?” He huffed. “Stephanie Mabry. We ran into each other in a department store at the mall. Bam.” “And you asked her out?” He laughed. “Sounds desperate. But she was cute, outgoing.” “You like that type. I’ll bet you were a heartthrob in high school.” “Actually,” he replied. “I was the fat kid.” Her eyes spread. “You? But you’re ...” Her words trailed away, and her cheeks reddened. “Here’s where I it I’ve noticed you.” The corners of his lips curved. “It’s mutual.” “Me?” She pointed at herself. “But I’m ... puffy.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he replied. “The beauty in a woman comes from the inside, and you’re pretty fantastic.” “Can I hire you as a life coach, too?” He laughed. “So tell me ...” She swiveled in her seat. “How does the fat kid become the hunk?” One eyebrow arched upward, almost on its own. “If I’m fantastic, then you’re a hunk. Take the compliment and answer the question.” “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “I got tired of being fat. Went on a diet-slash-exercise plan and decided to stick with it once I’d reached my goal. One friend asked me for some training tips, then another. Soon, it was what I wanted to do.” He waved a hand outward. “I’ve dedicated my life to puffy women everywhere.” She laughed, a beautiful sound, and one he had a feeling didn’t emerge too often. “Well, this woman’s going to be less puffy. She needs to fit into her dress for the dance.” He removed his arm from her shoulders and returned to eating. His food was cold. “Guess I have to wear a suit for that?” he asked between bites. “You, my exercise hunk, will look fabulous in a suit, and I’ll be the envy of every woman there.” He swallowed his bite and brought his gaze to her face. “Can I hire you as a life coach?” She laughed.

“I brought you something.” Allison stood over Ian, a silver-wrapped package held tight in her hand. It was a spur of the moment gift she’d spotted in a sales window yesterday. She’d argued with herself over buying it. Sure, they got along, but one week wasn’t very long to know someone, much less buy gifts. In the end, she’d given in, unable to walk away. He stared at the ornate paper then up at her face. “Well, it was either wedding paper or baby shower. I figured wedding was better,” she replied. He grinned, and, taking the package, slid his thumb underneath the tape. Lifting the lid, he pulled a silver dog tag from the fiber packaging. In the center was one word: faith. “I don’t know what to say.” “It’s how I feel, like I can believe in myself again. I’ve really been down in the dumps, and I’m tired of being that way. I’ve got to wrap my head around being happy without Rick, but that feels wrong. Dishonorable somehow. But the other night ... it meant a lot to just talk to somebody and laugh.” He laid the tag in his palm, the silver surface catching the light. “I hope it wasn’t expensive,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to cost you anything, but I do appreciate it.” She gave a light laugh. “You’re already costing me something. I’m paying for your time. Aren’t I?” “Yes, but the other night was free.” He placed the pendant back in the box and pressed the lid on it. “I’ll wear it with pride.” He stood to his feet, and she gazed upward at the dusting of hair on his chin. Unthinking, she ran her hand over it. “Somebody hasn’t shaved.” He stilled. Embarrassed, she dropped her hand to her side. “Not that it looks bad on you. I really should mind my own business and not constantly butt into yours. I mean ...”

“Allison.” She clamped her mouth shut. He reached for her hand and curled his around it. “Never forget that you’re a woman,” he said. “Your husband is gone, but who you are still remains. If he saw how great you are, then so do other people, myself included.” “You’re just being nice,” she replied. “They pay you to be nice, so you know the right things to say. And I’ve only ever been pathetic, so you know how to say them.” He made a face. “You don’t believe that.” No, she didn’t really, but being self-deprecating came natural nowadays. “Tell you what, let’s settle this right now,” he said. He didn’t release her hand, and the warmth of his palm swept up her arm. “We’re no longer two people with a business arrangement. We’re friends, and friends tell each other things. Right?” She nodded, not speaking. “And friends do things together.” Curious, she pursed her lips. “How do you feel about running?” Her eyes widened. “Running?” “Yep. I go every morning. Why don’t you me?” “Like for free?” she asked. He chuckled. “Like for free. Meet me tomorrow at Lakeside Park.” “But you’ll outrun me, and what do I wear? I’ll slow you down ...” “Well, you will need to buy new shoes,” he replied, glancing down at her fashionable sneakers. “Something better for running.”

She followed his gaze, a smile crawling across her face. “Did you just tell a woman to buy shoes?” He matched her smile with one of his own. “I did.” “Ian McKinney, you’ve made my whole day.”

It was a beautiful morning with clear skies and a light breeze. Plus, she was there with a handsome guy. But her qualms returned. Why was he going through so much trouble for her? Because he was a nice person? He was a nice person, really nice, and she liked him. A lot. But she was allowed to like a man she wasn’t dating. Right? She and Rick had been friends first. “Tell the truth, Allison Hoff,” she said to herself. She and Rick had been friends all of three days before he’d kissed her. “We were fifteen for goodness sake.” “We, who?” She spun on one heel, her new shoes squeaking on the pavement. “Me and Rick when we met. He kissed me behind the bleachers.” “Don’t all kids in high school kiss behind the bleachers?” She laughed. “It seems like a requirement.” She swung her arms outward. “Okay, boss, where are we running?” “Not boss,” he replied with a smile. “Ian. And we’re taking the path around the lake. It’s more scenic and shorter. I’ll slow down, and you’ll speed up.” “You’re assuming I’m going to be slow,” she said, placing one hand on her hip. “But that’s something you haven’t learned about me yet. I was on the track team in high school.” “You mean, when you weren’t making out behind the bleachers?” He dodged her blow with a laugh and took off down the path. “Hey you ...” She sprinted after him. They settled into a rhythm, her jogging on his left, and she was surprised by how much she enjoyed it. She and Rick hadn’t exercised together, mostly because he had to do so much on his own. He always said, off duty, physical activity was the last thing on his mind, that he’d rather spend time with her. Lost in her thoughts, thirty minutes ed quickly. Ian pulled up short. He was

barely breathing, whereas she was gasping for air. He led her to an iron bench beneath an oak tree, and she collapsed. It took a minute to capture her breath. “See? There’s the difference between us,” she said. “That was barely a lift of your pinky, and I’m worn out.” She raised her pony tail from her neck, allowing air to blow across her skin. “You did fine,” he said. She glanced at him beneath her raised elbow. “Did Stephanie run?” “Lord, no.” He rolled his eyes and changed his voice to a squeaky tone. “‘The only workout I need is between the sheets.’” Allison burst into laughter, her hand going over her mouth. “Did she really say that?” He grinned. “Yes.” His grin faded and the lines on his face grew long. “We had nothing in common really. I think I married her to keep from being alone. I can’t even tell you, now, what we ever talked about.” “What would you have talked about?” she asked. He slid down on the bench. “I don’t know, maybe family. She met mine twice. I think? But she never asked about them or made any effort to know them.” “Okay, so I’ll bite. Tell me about your family.” He slouched a bit, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I have an older brother, Coby.” “How much older?” “Two years. I’m thirty-four. He’s thirty-six.” “Married?” Ian nodded. “Two kids.” “So you’re an uncle.”

“Uncle Ian,” he returned. “They live over towards Daytona Beach. I don’t see them enough.” “What’s his wife’s name and do you like her?” “I do,” he replied. “She’s great. Her name is Tori. And the kids are Tanya – she’s four – and Seth. He’s seven.” “Spoken like a proud uncle. I guess you and Stephanie never had children.” He shook his head. “Us either. We put it off until it was too late. I ...” She sucked in a breath. “I felt bad about that at first. I mean, they’d be part of him. Now, looking back, I’m glad we didn’t because raising kids without a father is wrong. I’d have to explain what happened to him and there they’d be, daily reminders. Not that I’m trying to forget him, just ...” “The pain,” Ian supplied. She met his gaze. “I want to forget how much it hurts,” she said softly. He took her hand in his. “I get that. I have to forget that the girl I married hated me enough to want me dead. Every single day I think of that, and a million times a year I ask myself what I did wrong.” “Have you considered maybe it’s not what you did wrong, but what she did wrong? There are two sides to every argument. I think the man in front of me couldn’t possibly have hurt her. He’s only been nice to me.” The silence of the outdoors enveloped them then, and face to face, they stared in each other’s eyes. Then Ian straightened. “You up for a smoothie?” he asked. “A smoothie? Is that allowed on my training?” He hauled her to her feet, and she popped up like a cork. “If you let me order it.” She gave a crooked smile. “No cheesecake, huh?”

“No, I’m thinking more of the fruit cup.”

CHAPTER 3 Allison eyed her friend overtop her cup of coffee and wished she had the nerve to ask her to shut up. But she and Cindy had been friends for a long time, and that was rude. “For two people who aren’t dating ...” Cindy continued her rant. “You and Ian McKinney are getting really close.” “Me and Ian are friends,” Allison returned, holding back a scowl. “And like you said, we aren’t dating.” “Mmm.” Allison took a swig in favor of not saying what came immediately to mind. “What about you and Matt?” Turnabout was fair play, as they say. But Cindy practically glowed. Not the same reaction at all. Allison sighed. “Matt is hot.” Cindy paused. “And vain.” “Vain? You’ve been out, what, twice? Yet you already know that.” Cindy raised her iced coffee to her lips. “I waited on him fifteen minutes the second time while he fixed his hair.” “Was it worth it?” Cindy’s eyes lit. “Every stinkin’ minute. Now, back to you.” No, not back to her. “What about me?” Allison asked. “I’ve lost five pounds.” Cindy rolled her eyes. “Not the weight. The guy.” “The guy is pretty great.” “But?” Allison scrubbed her toe across the tile beneath the table. But she didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to answer Cindy’s constant questions.

“C’mon, Allie, it’s all right to like him.” “I do like him.” Cindy flapped her hand. “You know what I mean, as a guy, not a friend.” Allison buried her face in her coffee cup, her cheeks hot. But that only made Cindy talk louder. “Why are you hiding? I can see you, you know, and you’re as red as a last night’s sunset.” She stretched a hand across the table and laid it over Allison’s. “You can’t mourn Rick forever. Do you think he’d want you to shrivel up and die? Because that’s what you were doing before Ian came along. I see the change in you. You’re so much happier, and it isn’t just the exercise doing that.” Allison lowered her cup and toyed with the handle. Seeing Ian every morning was the highlight of her day. Seeing him in the afternoon at the gym, the hour she looked forward to. But it hadn’t progressed beyond that. He seemed satisfied with their casual , with conversations about trivial things, and they didn’t cross each other’s paths on the weekend at all. She hadn’t encouraged it. Ian was great, but ... she wasn’t ready. “The Fourth is only two weeks away,” Cindy said, breaking into her thoughts. “I think you need to consider your mornings as more than him ‘helping you out.’” She made quotes in the air with her fingers. Allison’s stomach writhed, uneasy, and she mashed a hand to her waist. “I ... I can’t. W-we made a deal, and he ...” “Is awake and alive, and yeah, maybe he has reservations. After what you told me about his ex, I don’t blame him. But he’ll wake up at some point and see you as better than her.” Cindy squeezed her fingers. “You deserve to have someone care for you. Don’t rule that out. That’s all I’m saying.” That was saying too much. Ian had made it plain from the start they were only friends. And she needed him. More than she’d ever thought possible. She simply wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this one spot of happiness in her life. Cindy was wrong. She had to be.

Ian lowered the weight bar and sat up. Reaching for a gym towel, he wiped his brow and thrust to his feet. His gaze met Matt’s, coming down the center aisle. They clasped hands and bumped chests, and Matt dropped his duffel bag at his feet. “No Allison?” he asked, settling himself at a cross-trainer. “Not until three.” Matt adjusted the weights, and reclined, his hands on the bar. “Why wait until three?” Ian eyed him. “What does that mean?” “You and she are pretty chummy. Why keep it as only exercise? You like her, don’t you?” “Of course. She’s great—funny, sweet, thoughtful.” Matt’s expression changed. “That sounds like a list of good character traits to me.” “What are you up to?” Matt sighed and returned upright. “I was talking to Cindy ...” “Oh, I get it. You and she are in league now. Since you’re so happy, we should follow suit.” Matt crossed his arms, his biceps bulging. “No, since we’re so happy, you should definitely be miserable. You know what? Forget I ever suggested you find a woman who might be good for you. You should be unhappy and crotchety all the time because Allison might go psycho on you like Stephanie did.” “Funny,” Ian snapped. “I don’t think Allison’s going to go psycho.” A smirk appeared on Matt’s lips. “All right. Point made,” Ian returned. “But I don’t think she takes me seriously.” “Then you are blind.” Matt pointed a finger at him. “I’d go so far as to say you

make her day.” “How in the world do you know that?” Ian asked. “Because I am on the outside looking in. You and Stephanie never had the rapport you have with Allison, nor did you ever look at her the way you look at Allison. Stephanie was a rat. She’d breeze in here, swinging her hips, and look back to see who was watching.” The familiar darkness that was his battle in those days descended over Ian’s mind. He’d been suspicious of her behavior. She’d come home flustered, her clothing rumpled, her hair out of place, and, at night, ignore any advances he made. Once, she’d smelled like male cologne, something he didn’t recognize or own. He’d accused her of cheating, and she blown his words off, so much hot air. Honestly, you are so distrustful. In the end, he’d been right. After she was arrested, the detective over the case told him about all the texts and emails they’d found between her and some guy named Leo. Apparently, the affair had been going on for quite some time. “Hot and heavy” were the detective’s words. Matt reclined once again on the bench. “You’re selling yourself short by not taking this further,” he said. “I bet if you asked her out she’d go.” “Ask her out?” “Yeah, on a date,” he replied. “You do that already. You’re just calling it something else.” “We said no strings. I can’t possibly put any pressure on her. Anyhow, her story is different from mine. Sure, I might can get past my reservations, but how does she get past the fact her husband died and she loved him?” “By looking into the eyes of someone else who could if he’d try.” Ian ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll let you get to work,” he said. “I appreciate the relationship advice. Be sure to tell Cindy I said thanks.”

Matt laughed, light. “Will do.” Ian left him there and headed for the showers. Whatever he felt for Allison would have to stay on hold because she was valuable to him and hurting her was not something he was prepared to do. She worshipped the ground her husband walked on, and all it took was the slightest mention of him for her to collapse. No, they were good friends, and that was all right with him. Yet having shed his shirt and turned on the hot water, something way down inside said different.

Her hand over the phone, Allison hesitated, lowering and lifting it again repeatedly before hitting dial. This was lame, and she felt stupid. But what if he didn’t mind? He wouldn’t mind. He’d said anything she needed, day or night, weekends, just yesterday, and then given her his number. He wouldn’t give her his number if he didn’t think she’d call. She hit cancel and sat the phone back on the kitchen table. She couldn’t possibly call. It was Saturday, and he was probably busy. “You’re a sad sack,” she said to herself, shoving the phone away. Her cat leaped onto the table and took up a stead purr. He rubbed his head beneath her fingers. “Another lonely weekend,” she said to him, “It’s me and you again. Right, boy?” Cesar spun in a circle, tail erect, and scrubbed his head below her fingers. Absentminded, she scratched behind his ears. “Let’s see ... what could we do, since I’m going to chicken out on my other plan? Cabinets. I said I would get rid of some things I don’t need.” She pushed to her feet and, flipping the first door open, removed a stack of baking dishes. “Who needs a tart pan? I’ve never made a tart in my life.” She set it aside and reached for the next dish. A good hour ed by and a couple stacks formed. She lifted the keepers and returned them to the cabinet. “Next,” she said. She moved to another cabinet, once again, filtering through the pans she’d collected. At sight of one in particular, a memory surfaced. My mom used to make sour cream pound cake, so I bought you a pan in case you ever get inspired.

Rick. His lips pressed to her neck, he’d swept his hands beneath her blouse, and she’d laughed and leaned back. Like I’ll become a baker. Hey, you never know. Her eyes filled. She’d never done that for him, and now, she was considering seeing another man? How could she? The pan clutched to her chest, she backed up to the table and collapsed. Why hadn’t she baked him a cake? It was so simple: butter, flour, eggs, vanilla extract. One hour of her time, yet she hadn’t given it to him. You don’t need that, she’d argued. It’s full of fat. What will the guys say? The guys will say thank you. The pan slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a clang. Head in her hands, she curled over her lap and sobbed.

Ian stared at the number on his phone screen and contemplated the fact Allison had called. And hung up. First, she had called, and he’d been sitting here wishing he had the nerve to call her. Second, she’d hung up. That was, what? Fear? Reluctance? A change of heart? He blew out a loud breath. If she hung up, then he shouldn’t read too much into it. It didn’t mean she didn’t like him anymore. Then again, she could have been calling to say she thought they should keep it professional. But hadn’t they gone beyond that? Giving her his number had come as a spur-ofthe-moment thing. She’d acted like it was no big deal. Why then was he thinking it was huge, and she didn’t appreciate it? He poised his finger over the redial button. He should call back, make sure she was okay. What if she wasn’t? What if something had happened and she needed his help? Then she’d call back. He dropped his hand to his lap. He’d let it go and see her Monday morning at the lake. No need to make a mountain out of a molehill. She’d walk up smiling, and they’d take their run. They’d worked up to an hour now. She was doing great. She’d lost seven pounds, she said. “I only need three more and I can fit in the dress. Three pounds in less than two weeks. You think we can do it?” We. Stephanie had never referred to them as we anything. It’d been her and him living separate lives, blindly groping each other at night. Eventually, that had stopped, too. That’s when he’d suspected she was cheating. She dressed up, but not when he asked. She dragged out the perfume he used to love, but only to leave the house. Business meeting. At nine p.m.? She’d rolled her eyes. Honestly, give me some slack, Ian.

Slack. Right. Enough to choke on. He stared down at his hands, turning them over palm-side up. “To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, ’til death do us part.” That had meant nothing to her. But wasn’t that the way it always was? You married, enthusiastic about each other, then time and circumstances, job or children, sucked the life out of it. “Don’t be so pessimistic.” His parents had been married thirty-nine years. Hadn’t they? And they still loved each other. “Look what Steph has turned you into,” he said to himself. A hermit, that’s what. Because out there was a woman who with each day that ed he adored more and more. But he had no right to feel that way. Hadn’t she hung up? He should pull back, else he might just be risking the best friendship he’d ever had.

“How was your weekend?” Ian asked. Allison tied her shoe, not looking up. “Good. Yours?” He stared down at her, a dozen words rising in his mind, but settled on one. “Long.” She sat up then stood to her feet. “Long?” One hand on the trunk of a small tree, he contemplated his answer. “Probably my own fault. I had a dozen things I could have done, but none I actually attempted.” And all I would have set aside for you. He smothered the thought. “Well, I was productive. I cleaned out my cabinets, got rid of a lot of stuff I’ll never use. Took it all by the donation bin this morning.” So she had been busy and not thinking of him at all. He looked toward the lake. “Shall we run?” “Yep.” She took off, leaving him to catch up. They didn’t speak in their circuit around the path, and an hour ed. She slowed at the end, taking a seat on the familiar iron bench. He descended at her side. Still, neither one spoke, and the air warmed, the heat of summer capturing the atmosphere. “You want to go for a smoothie?” he asked. She glanced at him then away. “Not today. I have to run some errands.” “Oh, sure. Maybe tomorrow.” “Maybe.” She hopped to her feet. “See you at three?” He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“K.” She walked off as if she hadn’t a care in the world. But the weight on his chest grew with each step. He was right. He’d read way too much into this. She was gaining back her confidence with life, and that was good. For her to be able to do things without always falling apart was a definite step in the right direction. He should be happy for her. After all, he wasn’t getting paid for moral , just for one hour at the gym. She’d stop that, too, eventually. He stood to his feet and looked back toward the parking lot. Maybe today he’d run a bit further, drown out the thoughts in his head that were rapidly becoming more and more upsetting.

“Okay, this has got to end.” Cindy clapped her hands together, and Allison leaped in place. Her fingers gripping the spoon, she stirred the cake mix too fast, sloshing the mixture over the sides of the bowl. “What has got to end? And don’t scare me like that,” she replied. “Matt says you and Ian have all but stopped talking. What’s up with that?” “We talk. We went running this morning.” “And shared what with each other?” Cindy’s gaze was sharp. Allison turned away, raising the bowl and pouring it into the tube pan. The batter rippled in a wave into the bottom. “Why are you baking a cake? You never bake anything.” “I felt like it. Rick used to always want me to bake one of these, and I thought ...” “Ooh, I get it.” Cindy crossed her arms over her chest. “This is back to your guilt. You’re doing what Rick wanted, so any thought of seeing Ian is off the list.” Allison blew out a loud breath. “Please, that’s not it at all.” “Isn’t it?” Cindy crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me you didn’t decide to bake this cake because you were staring at the pan and crying over it.” Allison didn’t respond, but sat the bowl back on the counter and released the spoon. It slid slowly to the bottom. “Well?” “Well, maybe I did look at the pan and think about it, but Ian had nothing to do with it. He hasn’t approached me either.” “You’re giving off mixed signals. That’s why. He’s treating you like a porcelain

doll, afraid to upset you. Only now, you’ve gone all cold, and it’s confirmed his fears. You have to clear this up.” She waved a finger in Allison’s face. “There’s nothing to clear.” Cindy frowned. “Oh, yes, there is. You’re not going to the Fourth of July dance and acting like a penguin on meth all night.” Allison turned her back on her friend and opened the stove door. Taking hold of the cake pan, she slid it in the oven and set the timer. “There. It’s perfect.” “The cake maybe, but not your life. Your life is a mess.” Allison removed her apron and folded it on the counter. “What’s messy about it? I’ve lost weight. I’m getting out every day. I’m taking up baking.” “You’re being stupid,” Cindy said in a singsong voice. Allison toted the bowl to the sink, rejecting Cindy’s sarcasm. Plunging her hands into the hot, soapy water, she took her time washing the mixing bowl. Cindy popped into view, peering up at her, and her palms on the edge of the sink, Allison steadied her breaths. “I almost called him. He gave me his number.” Cindy’s eyes softened. “Why didn’t you?” “I found the pan.” Her shoulders sagged. “I owe Rick too much to like anyone else. It’s treasonous.” Cindy took hold of her shoulders, pulling her into her arms. “Sweetheart, when are you going to get it in your head that he’d dead and gone?” Allison slumped further against her friend. “I know that.” “No, you don’t because there’s a guy who cares for you and you are pushing him away to hang onto the memory of someone who isn’t here anymore.” “But what if ...” Cindy laid a finger over Allison’s lips. “There is no what if. Matt says he’s as miserable as you are, and he won’t it it either. One of you has to take the

first step, and I think it needs to be you.” She pushed Allison to an arm’s length. “Do you trust me?” Allison nodded once. “Then call Ian. Do it right now. Invite him over, and tell the truth. All of it.” A tingle came in Allison’s hands, and she curled them into fists. “Think of it this way. You’ve walked this far by taking things one at a time. But with every phase there had to be a first step. This is just another one. You aren’t the only thirty-three-year-old widow who’s had to learn how to move on. Call him.” Cindy snagged her cell off the counter and stuck it in her hand. Allison stared at her reflection in the blank screen. “I’m not leaving until I hear you on the phone.” Drawing in her breath, Allison awakened the phone and scrolled through her s for the number. Her fingers shaking, she glanced up at Cindy. “It’ll be all right. Go ahead.” Her heart clogging her throat, she mashed dial, steadying her shaking legs by clutching the counter. Ian answered, and her mouth dried. “Hello? Allison?” “Y-yes,” she croaked. “You okay?” She swallowed hard. “I will be. I ... wanted to ask if ... if you could come over.” “To your place?” Unthinking, she nodded. A wave of embarrassment washed through her, and she ducked her head then lifted it. He couldn’t see her. She cleared her throat. “I think we should ... talk.” “Okay. When?”

“N-now? Unless you’re busy or later is better or ...” He laughed, light. “Now’s fine. Can you text me the address?” “Yeah. Yes. Okay.” “Be there soon.” She hung up and sent him the address. Cindy embraced her again. “See now, was that so painful?” Allison gave a strained smiled. “Excruciating. I don’t suppose you’re going to hang around and tell me what to say.” Cindy patted her cheek. “You’ll be fine. Tell the truth. That’s the best thing you can do right now.” The truth. What was the truth? That she missed Rick, but cared for Ian. How in the world did she ever it that? Even more, how did she set it aside? If only, she wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of her life. If only.

CHAPTER 4 Ian stood outside the front door, his nerves amped to an impossible level. Allison had called. She wanted to talk. About what? Them? Of course, that was it, but maybe not in a good way. Probably, it was bad, and she was calling things off. But why invite him over to do that? She hadn’t invited him before. He scanned the exterior of the house, his eyes traveling across the front porch and back to the doorbell. It was a moderate home, something a policeman’s salary would afford. Apprehension skated up his spine. Her husband had stood here, turned that knob, gone inside. This was his domain, and Allison was his wife. He had no right to be here, except— He released his pent-up breath. Except she’d asked him to come. Pressing the doorbell, he waited. The knob rattled, and the door gave a sucking noise as it opened. Unlocking the storm door, Allison pushed it open with one hand, her expression uncertain. “Hey. Come in.” She reversed in the foyer, and he stepped inside. It was orderly and spacious; a small table stood to the right, and over it hung an oval mirror in a gilt frame. “Smells like ...” “Cake,” she said. “Yeah. I got inspired. It’s about done. We’ll go in the kitchen.” He followed her through a formal living room and an adjacent doorway to the right. The kitchen was an average size and well-furnished with granite countertops and a kitchen island with a sink in it. “Take a seat anywhere,” she said. He moved around the island and pulled out a stool. She cracked the oven door and glanced toward a timer steadily ticking on the stovetop. Her head inverted, she looked down at her hands, her fingers stretching

and relaxing, again and again. Finally, she turned around and gave a half-smile. “I need to be honest,” she said. His stomach gripped. “I have ...” She paused. “This is really hard for me, and it shouldn’t be.” She’d seemed to switch gears with that remark. “If there’s some kind of problem ...” “No,” she interrupted. “I’m going to say it and hang the consequences.” He gave a worried glance. “Is it that bad?” She laughed, but it sounded tense. “I have feelings for you.” “Feelings?” Shaken, Ian pulled in a breath. “More-than-a-friend feelings,” she continued. “But I’ve been arguing with myself for days, saying, ‘I can’t. I have to Rick,’ and a lot of such talk. I almost called you Saturday. No, I did call you, but I hung up. I guess you noticed?” He nodded, unspeaking. “I chickened out. Then I found the pan.” “The pan?” he asked. He forced himself to stay calm and not overreact, folding his hands together in his lap. “Cake pan.” The timer went off, and she turned again. Removing the cake from the oven, she set it on the stove and mashed a button on the front dial. The stove popped and snapped, cooling. “Rick gave it to me,” she continued. “He wanted me to bake a cake, but I never did. I guess I fell back into the old pattern I’ve been in for the last year and a half, beating myself to a pulp over all the things I could have done to make our lives more perfect. Next thing I know I’m here baking a cake for someone who

won’t come back.” Her voice rose. “For someone who’s dead.” She slammed her hand down on the counter. “D*mn you, Rick Hoff, for dying on me. I had plans. I wanted things—children, grandchildren. We had years together, but you had to go be the freakin’ hero again. I didn’t want a hero. What good does a hero do me when you’re not here to hold me anymore?” Her voice cracked. “To love me anymore. How dare ...” A sob escaped her lips. “How dare you die on me.” She crumpled, and Ian swooped around the counter and caught her. Tucking her to his chest, he wrapped his arms around her waist and breathed in the scent he’d become so familiar with, the one that made his heart skip a beat and his face light up. Allison exhaled. “Tell me you feel this,” she said. He shut his eyes, overcome. “I feel it.” “Now, say we’re more than friends.” He laughed softly in her ear. “We’re more than friends.” “What are we?” she asked. He ran one hand up and down her back. “I think they call this falling in love.” She pulled her head back and looked in his eyes. “Is that why I can’t get you out of my head?” “That’s why when you hung up I convinced myself it was for all the wrong reasons. You’d changed your mind. You were independent now and didn’t need me. Stephanie never needed me,” he said. “She was her own person from the start.” Allison brought a hand to his face. “Stephanie was a fool, and if I let you go, I’m a bigger one. I need you, Ian McKinney.” She laid her head back to his neck.

Allison fitted herself to Ian’s side, her cheek on his shoulder. One hand drifted to a place on his thigh, and he took it in his own, curling his fingers around it. “Rick and I never sat like this. He always wanted to sit over there.” She nodded toward a recliner, the padding formed to the shape of a much larger man. “He called it his ‘man’s chair.’” She threw her voice low. “Sometimes I’d sit in his lap. He liked that, but I always got dumped out once the game came on. He was a huge football fan, watched several games at once, and could tell you the stats of any player. I never could follow it. Do you watch football?” “No.” “Good.” She giggled then, bringing her free hand to her mouth. “I can’t believe I said that.” She lifted her head. “But, heaven help me, I hate football.” Sucking in a breath, she shouted the words across the room. “I hate football!” Ian laughed. “That’s liberating,” she said. “Here, you try it. What was something you hated?” Ian made a low hum. “Mmm ... Bonanza.” “The old western?” “God, yes. Steph watched those day in and day out. ‘Pa, can I go to town?’ Infernal middle-aged numbskulls.” “Well, let it out.” He cleared his throat. “I hate Bonanza!” They both fell into a fit of laughter afterward, which dissipated into rapid breaths. “I hate football, but after he died, I sat here and watched the game. I’d curl up in his chair, a blanket in my lap, and sob my way through four hours of mindless chatter. What I wouldn’t have given right then to have it annoy me again. With him gone though, it didn’t. It wasn’t the same.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I need to show you something,” she said, pushing to her feet. His grip on her hand lightened with her movement. He stumbled along behind her across the room and down the hall. They ed two guest rooms, one each on either side of a short hallway, to the master at the end. She halted just outside and laid her palm flat to the white-painted surface. The door swung open at her touch, and Ian’s eyes spread wide. It was a time capsule to her husband, preserved as if at any moment, he’d come striding in. His uniform hung over a hat rack in the corner; his coat was draped over the top hook, and an eight-point hat set atop that. At the base were his boots, the toes creased from wear in extreme conditions, with a pair of socks rolled and stuffed in the top. But it was the walls and the dressers that took Ian’s gaze the most. Awards, photographs, condolence cards, every square inch was covered with some form of tribute, a virtual museum she hadn’t let go of. Stunned, Ian stalled a few steps inside the room. Allison ed him, crossed to the closet on the left, and slid the doors open. Her husband’s things consumed the space, with only a tiny corner reserved for her. It was as if she was unimportant against the size of him. His shirts, his pants, his shoes, even sports gear and odds and ends he must have collected over a lifetime, lay prominent inside. Allison trailed her fingers down the sleeve of a dress shirt on the end, straightening the cuff and tucking it back into place. “Allison, why?” She glanced back at him, tears skimming down her cheeks. “Because he’s gone,” she said, “and he’s never coming back.” Her shoulders shaking, she dropped her face into her hands. “Never,” she cried. “He’s never coming back.” Helpless, Ian stood there, an outsider, unprepared and unable to react. Then her legs gave way again and she crumpled to the floor. Falling at her side, he scooped her in his lap, curling her against him. His hand on the back of her head,

he turned her face upward. Her eyes were rimmed red and cheeks stained. He blotted her tears with his thumbs. “I know you loved him, but this ... this isn’t healthy.” “He was everything,” she said. Ian weighed his words. “You are everything. My everything. And I need you to let him go. For us.” She gulped, the action prominent on her neck. “I don’t know how.” “Where’s the phone?” he asked. She waved her fingers toward the bedside table. Helping her to her feet, he took her hand and led her to the bed. Seating himself, he draped an arm around her, hugging her tight. “What’s Cindy’s number?” He dialed the digits and pressed the speaker to his ear. Cindy picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” “Hey, this is Ian McKinney. I’m at Allison’s place.” “So you made it,” she replied. He coughed light. “Yes, but ... I need your help. We need your help. However, I think it’s best you come over here, so I can show you.”

“Sweetheart, why did you never say anything?” Cindy asked. “I ... I can’t believe it. I would have helped you months ago.” Allison rubbed her fingers over her raw, aching throat. “Embarrassment, partially,” she said, “and that same unfaithful feeling.” “Unfaithful? It’s him that has been unfaithful to you.” Cindy jabbed a finger in her face. “He should never have smothered the beautiful person you are with his ... his ... testosterone.” She took the police hat off the stand, a puff of dust flying upward. “How dare Rick Hoff make my friend so subservient.” She swung the hat around and extended it to Allison. “Take it.” Allison’s fingers trembled, the tips tingling, and she hesitated. “I can’t.” “Oh, yes, you can. This man, God bless his heroic self, goes in the box today. Out there in the living room is another one that wants his way in.” “Cindy ...” “Well, he does. You are beautiful and desirable, and you deserve to be loved with every expression of that love, physical included. No man wants to compete with another one. Therefore, Rick is going in the box. Now, take it.” Allison closed her fingers over the edge of the hat, stomach heaving, and caressed the navy cloth, tucking it to her chest, but Cindy rapped her knuckles on top of her skull. “In the box,” she said. “Let it go.” It landed in the bottom with a thunk, and tears threatened to fall. Allison sucked in her breath. No, she was through crying. Cindy was right. She needed to do this. It was time. “Next, the coat. You do it.” Wobbling over to the hat rack, Allison lifted it from the hook and toted it to the box. “I’m sorry,” she said. She started to drop it, but Cindy snatched the cloth.

“No, ‘I’m sorrys.’ You won’t apologize. You’ve mourned. You miss him. But you’re moving on. Now, throw it in the box.” Throw it. Allison recaptured the coat. Collecting herself, she tossed the coat in, and it fell in almost slow motion, the folds extending, the hem crumpling, and the collar standing upright. Dust swirled in the air. Fanning, her face, Allison coughed. “Boots, too. Then we’re starting on the closet.” It took most of an hour to clean it all out, becoming easier with each trip. The last box finally out the door, Allison stood center of the room and stared at the emptiness of it. Had Rick really filled that much space? And in contrast, had she taken up so little? Yet inside her, he was as huge, as unforgettable as he’d ever been, and herself so small. A knock on the doorframe spun her around. Ian stood uncertain in the opening, his brow drawn and his eyes soft. She walked up to him and halted. “He’s still in here. I hear him talk. I see where he sat, things we did.” “Sleep somewhere else then,” he said. Sleep somewhere else. She could use one of the guest rooms for now, make it her own. But wouldn’t that make the master that much harder to enter? “No one has asked you to set him aside,” Ian continued. “Myself included.” No, in fact, they’d talked about Rick more than once, and that was part of what had drawn her to him. “Just you are valuable.” He reached for her hand. “Especially to me. I have my own issues. It still haunts me, what Stephanie tried to do. I must have messed up badly for her to think like that of me.” “No.” Allison leaned against him, her cheek at the base of his neck. “Not the man I know. He’s kind and gentle.”

Ian wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “You keep telling me that, and one day, I might believe it.”

Allison dressed for the Fourth of July dance early enough that she had way too much time to contemplate the difference between this night and the last time she’d attended. That one, two years ago, had been on the arm of her husband. He’d worn his police uniform, his shoes polished to a high shine, not a speck of dust on his coat or his hat. She’d been in his shadow the entire time. She’d lived in his shadow, for that matter. Rick had been larger than life in any situation, which made it so hard to believe he was gone. They’d shown up at her door the day he was killed, hats in their hands, eyes downcast, and she’d argued with them. No, he can’t be dead. He was ... was right here this morning. He kissed me goodbye. Goodbye forever, though he hadn’t known it. That had tormented her for months. She’d seen his face, felt the heat of his lips, heard the fervor in his voice. I love you, Mrs. Hoff. One hand around her waist, he’d squeezed her bottom, and she’d slapped at him. That isn’t love, Mr. Hoff. He’d laughed and turned around. Allison fastened an earring in her ear, the backing clicking into place. He’d made love to her after the dance, drunk on the rush of being together and a room full of testosterone, and fallen asleep after with his head on her chest. Then he’d woken up hours later and done it again. She hadn’t been so eager the second time, but couldn’t argue. He was insistent, and she always gave in. Allison exhaled, her eyes on her reflection in the mirror. “You gave in too much.” After all, where would he have gone had she refused? Nowhere. He would have been upset and gotten over it. But, as in all things in their relationship, she’d caved. Better to go with the flow than argue. Argue. She’d never argued with him about anything. Complained some, but

typically her complaints were timid and not forceful enough to change his behavior. Don’t wear the burgundy dress. Wear the blue one. The night of the dance again. He’d asked, so she’d changed. And you might want to wear different shoes. Those will get uncomfortable. But those shoes were new, and she’d looked forward to being seen in them. She’d switched anyway. “Not tonight, Rick Hoff,” she said out loud. “I loved you, but tonight I’ll wear what I want to wear.” She’d honor him, smile at his old cronies, accept the department’s award, and move on afterward. Just like she’d cleaned out their bedroom ... her bedroom ... she would put away all the stuff that had locked her in place. “I loved you.” She brushed powder foundation across her cheeks. “I will always love you, and you might be mad at me for saying this ... but you’re not here anymore, and he is. I care for Ian McKinney. He matters to me, and I have to move on.” The doorbell rang, and she dropped her makeup brush and rose to her feet. Slipping into her shoes, she rushed down the hall to the front door. She inhaled first, then breath suspended, twisted the knob. Sight of Ian in a tuxedo sent her breath whooshing out. “You look beautiful,” he said. She smiled, her cheeks warming. “Are you ready?” “I think so.” She held up one finger and reached for her clutch bag, sitting on the table inside the door. “Okay, I’m ready now.” Stepping outside, she locked the door.

He didn’t move though, but stared at her. “I’m a lucky man,” he said. “I never expected a second chance, didn’t want one, for that matter. I’m glad I was wrong.” She stepped closer and laid the back of her hand to his cheek. It was smooth from shaving, the scent of cologne and shaving cream mingling on his skin. “Not a second chance,” she said. “A first for us. After all, we’ve never done this before.” She lowered her hand, and he took it in his. “In that case, there’s a lot of firsts to come.”

CHAPTER 5 The room teamed with uniforms, so many Ian was a mite uncomfortable. He didn’t say so, however, but greeted everyone introduced to him. And there were a lot of introductions. Allison was in her element, and this surprised him. She’d been so timid about everything else, reluctant to let go of her husband’s things, reluctant to share her inner feelings with him. But placed in a room full of cops, she was completely at home. He spent a lot of time staring at her, marveling at the change, and decided she must have made some choice before he came. Maybe putting her husband’s things away helped. And maybe doing this tonight was closure. She’d overcome a lot to be here, and the two of them had begun something new for them both. Yet his nervousness increased as the night wore on. He wanted to do one thing before he went home and couldn’t believe he wanted it. If letting go of her husband was her greatest step forward, letting go of his exwife was his. She’d hung there over him for months, much like a pendulum, swinging back and forth, back and forth. He’d been unable to escape. Worse yet was how much he despised her. He’d never thought himself capable of hating someone that strong but found that he did. And way down deep inside, in his very core, he knew that bitterness had lodged there and begun to grow. A cancer, eating him from the inside out. He had no closure. Sure, Stephanie had gone to prison. He’d kept track of exactly where she was housed and when she might get out. He planned to attend all of her parole hearings and do his best to keep her in there. But unlike Allison, there wasn’t any room to clean out. There weren’t any pictures to take down. He’d burnt them all, even their wedding album. He had no trinkets, no baubles, simply a lot of bad memories to somehow bear. Which made what he wanted a huge step for him, and in some way, his own form of closure. But would she see it that way? The microphone whistled, and the bearer turned it away from the front speakers, then brought it to his lips. “Good evening.”

The muttering of the crowd silenced, those standing taking their seats. “We’re glad to have such a great turnout this year. A few acknowledgements must be made. First ...” He waved a hand outward. “Our wonderful organizer, Miss Macy Brooks, is responsible for the decorations.” A spattering of applause swept the crowd. “We must thank the old wives club for the menu.” This brought out a cheer, and a female hand waved from a table toward the front. Whoever the old wives club was, it seemed everyone knew but him. “But most importantly, tonight, we want to pay tribute to Rick Hoff, who gave his life in the line of duty. I’m happy to see his wife here. I confess, I cornered her earlier and asked her to speak. I had to twist her arm a bit. She always was a quiet one, but I think she’s willing. Mrs. Hoff?” Allison pushed to her feet, not looking his way, and wound her steps between the tables. He’d seen someone speaking to her earlier and had overheard part of the conversation, but her agreeing was unexpected. The microphone whistled during the hand off, and Allison shrunk back. The speaker adjusted it. She sought Ian’s gaze, and he smiled at her. “I have to confess I’ve spent a great deal of time crying and staring at Rick’s things. Just this week, I put them away, and that came totally unplanned. But I’ve found many things in life are unplanned. Well, maybe except where Rick was concerned. He planned everything.” Laughter rippled through the room and a shout of, “I hear that,” echoed overtop. Allison laughed lightly. “He once told me if you didn’t plan for it then you didn’t do it, and I think he was right. He was right about most things ... everything in his thinking ...”

More laughter ensued. “But one thing he was wrong about.” She paused, her eyes moistening. She gave a short cough. “I’m not going to cry.” The room grew still, people fidgeting in their seats. “He was ...wr-wrong about me,” she said. “’Babe, without me you’d fall apart,’ he used to say. He was joking, of course. But I confess I embraced that idea, collapsing in on myself and refusing to come out. Then someone told me I mattered, and I saw that the greatest honor I can do for Rick is to survive. That’s what he wanted for everyone, what drove him to become a cop, what sent him in that bank building despite the odds. It’s what he died for. His was the ultimate sacrifice. But you know, I think he wouldn’t have it any other way. Dying of old age was too easy. Dying to save someone more his style.” She cast her gaze toward the ceiling and her volume grew. “I know you’re up there, watching” she said. “You hero, you. So look down at all these people who loved you, who’ll never forget how great you are.” “To Rick,” yelled someone from the front. “To Rick,” rose a chorus of voices. “To the bravest woman I’ve ever known,” Ian said to himself, and he tipped his glass and drained it.

“Dance with me,” Ian took Allison’s hand and tugged her onto the dance floor, curling her in his arms. The tune, some slow, dreamy love song was appropriate for the moment. She nestled her head on his chest, and they swayed, unspeaking. Minutes later, the song switched to another of similar pace. “You were great,” he mumbled in her ear. She raised her head and looked up at him. “Was I?” “Mmm. I think Rick would’ve been proud. I was.” She smiled crookedly. “Rick would have been proud of me, and incredibly jealous right now. You should be glad he’s gone, Ian McKinney.” Startled, he drew his brow tight. Her joy faded somewhat. “What? Something’s bothering you?” “No, but ... I can’t figure out how you’ve changed. You’re ...” “Confident?” she asked. “Yeah, I guess. Why?” She laid her cheek back to his chest. “I was thinking this afternoon about the last time he and I came to this, and it occurred to me he was a bit of a bully.” Her head popped back up. “A loveable one, mind you. But he always acted like this was his night, and I was there as decoration. It made me angry, frankly. I’d forgotten how frustrating he could be. It’s like he died, and suddenly, his life was rose-colored. But, no, it wasn’t. He was precise about so many things, and yet he couldn’t hang up his towel? He’d spit in the sink after brushing his teeth, but he couldn’t turn the water on and rinse out the bowl?” She dropped her head again. “I still love him, but he wasn’t perfect. He was human. I should never have let myself forget that.” “I’m just as bad,” Ian said. “I wanted the perfect marriage, the perfect wife.

Therefore, knowing things weren’t going like I’d planned, I tried too hard to fix them. If I’m being honest, I knew she was cheating. There were all the signs. She wouldn’t take my phone calls. When we were together, she ignored my advances.” Allison curved one arm around his back. “I can’t believe she would ignore you at all.” Their words fell away. One song later, Ian whispered in her ear. “How ’bout we get out of here?” She nodded, and he led her to his car. “Mind if we go somewhere?” he asked, his hand on the key. She shook her head, her gaze on him, and he cranked. Some minutes later, he pulled up before his apartment building, indecision niggling at him. Was this the right thing or would she misinterpret it? He glanced at her. “I should explain.” Shadows hid her face, adding to his inner turmoil. “I’m not ... making a move on you. But I wanted you to come in ... I wanted you to see ...” He quieted. “To see what?” “The difference.” He inhaled. “I’ll take you home. This isn’t going right.” She reached across and took his hand. “No. I’m not afraid of you. I get it.” He blew out his held breath. “If you’re sure.” It was a few minutes’ walk through the lobby to the elevator and a few more to his floor. His nervousness increased the closer they were, until outside the apartment, he hesitated. She smiled softly, her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Well, let us in.” Unlocking the door, he reached inside and flipped on the light. She stepped in

before him and walked across the small foyer to the living room. Here, she paused. He waited for her to speak. She turned in a circle, her heels clicking on the tile, and faced him. “It’s empty.” He nodded. “I gave it all away.” “Gave it all away?” Her eyes widened. “Everything you own?” “It gets worse,” he said. “Go through there.” He pointed toward a doorway. Allison followed the direction of his finger, him shadowing behind, and paused again. She glanced back this time. “Where do you sleep?” “On a pallet on the floor or at the gym.” “The floor? Why?” She trailed her fingers down the bare wall, tracing the outline of what had hung there before. “It all reminded me of her, and I couldn’t stand it. I ... I didn’t want to but found, even with it all gone, I couldn’t forget.” “We are opposites, yet we are alike,” she said. “I hung onto it all, while you got rid of it all. Yet both of us failed. You should have things, a bed, a couch, a life. I should let go of things, make room for someone else.” “S-someone else?” he coughed. Her smile lit up her face. “For you. I want you in my life. I want to be loved again.” He brought his hands to her face and cradled her cheeks, lowering his head. “It’s been over a year,” he said. “We’d stopped ... showing affection.” She didn’t speak. “I will only do what you want me to, but ... but I want to kiss you. I want to feel

that again.” “Okay.” Her voice was quiet, the word almost not audible. “You’re sure?” he asked. The tears in her eyes surprised him. He pulled back, but she wrapped an arm behind his head and drew him closer. “It isn’t what you think,” she said. “It’s Rick. He never bothered to ask.” Time stood still, his heartbeat, his breath all suspended from action until their lips met and it all whirled past, tornadic, an explosion of sound and noise. And moisture. Her mouth greeted his, a sweet offering, willing him to partake and explore. He lost himself in it, any hesitation tossed away, adrift on a sea of emotion that secured them both together. Breath mingled, lips clinging tight, he held her there. She gave a long sigh. “You don’t have to ask next time.” Ian laughed, quietly. “I’ll that.”

“Ian McKinney?” Ian’s head shot up from his partially eaten sandwich, and he took in the gaze of the woman speaking. The restaurant chatter seemed to temporarily take over his thoughts. He focused himself. “Christine.” Christine Humboldt, good friend of ... “How’s Stephanie?” His stomach clenched. Maybe not so good a friend. Ian swallowed the anger that surged into his throat, temporarily overcome. “Stephanie’s in prison.” Christine, a woman he knew only through a brief at a couple parties he and Stephanie had attended, had the expected reaction. Her fingers tightening on the empty chair opposite him, she tugged it out and sat. “Prison?” She more gasped the word than spoke it. His mouth suddenly tasting like paste, Ian reached for his glass of water, but even the cool liquid did nothing to remove his distaste. “Why?” Christine asked, at last. His fingers curled around the base of the glass, his skin rapidly chilling, Ian reeled, the answer suddenly too much to bear. What he wouldn’t give to be with Allison right then. “Stephanie,” he began, his voice clipped, “tried to have me killed.” Christine paled even more than she already was. “Killed?” He nodded, sharp. “She hired someone, or thought she did, but the police were in on it. Thank God or I’d be dead.” “I ... don’t know what to say.” There wasn’t really anything to say. Every time he tried to bury his feelings over this, they’d grow a new head and rear up, snarling, snaggle-toothed. How was he ever supposed to get past it?

“We’re divorced,” he added, succinctly. She bobbed her head. “I guess so. You know, I hadn’t heard from her in a while and wondered what was up, but I figured maybe you and she had something going on. I’m sorry ... for everything.” He acknowledged her statements with a jerk of his chin. The air between them grew uneasy, and she stood to her feet. “For what it’s worth,” she said, turning away. “You were too good for her. We were friends, yeah, but she always did things I didn’t think were right.” “Like cheating?” he asked. She paused. “Did she do that, too?” He didn’t respond because the answer was plain. Christine exhaled. “Wow. Hey, take care of yourself.” She left, and he stared for the longest time at the street-scape out the large café window. It was a nice day, summer-hot, as always for late August. Most pedestrians wandering by looked to be in a hurry, but then no one wanted to be outdoors in this. No one. I hate the hot weather. Stephanie said that more than once. I wish you’d let us move up north, near my folks. What a mistake that would have been. “What would you have done with your boyfriend then?” he muttered to himself. A distinct pain started between his eyes, and he mashed his thumb there. How could he have been so stupid? That’s really what was at the heart of his frustration, the fact he’d tolerated all her antics, thinking it was love. He hadn’t had half of the emotion with her that he had with Allison. Allison. She was as innocent and pure as a child sometimes, and that had

endeared her to him. It made him care for her more and more over the weeks since they’d kissed that first time. His troubled thoughts faded, replaced by a well of feelings he couldn’t contain. Overcome, he reached for his cell and dialed her number. He needed to hear her voice, assure himself he was sane. “Hey, you,” she said, sounding chipper. “Hey,” he coughed, clearing his throat. Her tone altered. “Ian? What’s wrong?” “Was thinking about you,” he said. “And it choked you up?” She was teasing, and it made him smile. He ran a hand over his head, the phone pressed to his ear. “No, I was thinking about what you said ... about starting over.” A conversation they’d had last Friday. He’d taken her to dinner and they’d walked in the park afterward. “I need to start over. My lease is almost up. I want to ...” He paused, his thought frightening him. “You want to what?” He didn’t reply yet. How could he think that? Move in together? It was too soon. He had too much junk in his heart still, and she didn’t need to see all that day in and day out. Besides, she deserved commitment. She deserved more. Ian gulped, his throat painful, then took a swig of his drink. She deserved marriage, and he wasn’t ready. “I want you to help me find a new place. I want to buy a house.” A house? Where had that come from? He’d lived in that apartment for two years now, six months with Stephanie. And he still slept on the floor. Allison had tried to get him to buy a bed, even borrow one of hers, but he’d refused.

“A house?” she asked. “Yeah. Somewhere I can put down roots, make new memories, of us.” He felt her smile through the phone, could see her pink cheeks. “Okay. I have a friend who’s a realtor. You want me to call her?” “That’d be great. I really want to do this.” He did. Maybe if he had new walls, a back yard ... he’d get a dog even. Maybe then he could forget Stephanie. “I miss you,” he said. So much so it consumed him right then. He bowed his head over the table. “I’m done at three today. I’ll come over.” She answered softly. “Sounds good. Hey ...” The hum of the phone and the voices of nearby café patrons took over the conversation for a moment. Then he straightened, expelling a breath. “Whatever is bugging you,” Allison continued, “let it go.” Let it go. Let go of the hatred. But how was he supposed to do that? How did he walk away from the idea someone had wanted to hurt him without knowing why she had? “I’ll see you later,” he said. He’d burdened her enough with this. He had only a few more clients to go and then they’d be together. “Yeah ...” Her voice trailed away. “Later.” “Wait ...” he called into the phone. She couldn’t hang up yet. “You there?” “I’m here,” she said. He inhaled deep. “I love you.” The silence between them returned, this time with the faintest tremor of her weeping.

“Allie?” “Y-yes,” she cracked. “I mean that.” She gave a jittery laugh. “I know. I just didn’t think it’d happen again ...” “Didn’t think what would happen again?” he asked. She inhaled, a rushing noise in the speaker. “That a man would say those words to me. That I would want to hear them. That it’d be over the phone.” She laughed, light. “You go back to work, and I’ll see you at three. And Ian ...” He paused, the phone warm now in his palm, the remains of his lunch uneaten. “Yeah?” “I love you, too.” A smile crept on his lips, and the weight on his heart lifted. “Three,” he said. “Bye,” she replied.

CHAPTER 6 They’d looked at umpteen houses, yet still, he hadn’t found the right one. How he knew that he wasn’t sure, except for a gut feeling he’d know the one when he found it. Ian glanced across at Allison and took her hand. “Meredith says she can’t make it for this one, so she’s sending her friend, Gloria.” Meredith Hounds was a very nice lady, a very patient lady, who should be given some sort of award for tolerating him. She’d gone out of her way to find him the perfect place, never seeming despaired when he said no yet again. “That must be her,” Allison said, dipping her head toward the front of the house. Ian pulled into the driveway and headed up a concrete walk toward a rotund woman standing on the stoop. He pasted on a practiced smile. “Ian McKinney,” he said, hand extended. “And this is Allison.” The woman clasped his hand firmly. “So glad you could see this one, Mr. McKinney. We believe it’ll be the house you’re looking for.” He made no remark to that. They said something similar with each house he’d viewed. He placed on hand in the small of Allison’s back and ushered her inside. “As you can see, it has a nice entrance,” Gloria said. It did have a nice entrance, if your definition of nice was minimal. And scuffed. “If we go left ...” She made a left-hand motion. “We come into a more formal living room. I picture this with a nice couch, some throw pillows, perhaps a chair. It’d be a great reading space.” Nice seemed to be the word for the day. “Through here, we go into the kitchen-entertainment area. It’s nice and open.” Jabbing the toe of his shoe at several broken tiles, Ian tried not to laugh. “It needs work,” he said, instead. A lot of work. Hours and hours. A frown formed

on his forehead. “Yes, it does. However, the homeowner has discounted the price for that reason. If it was in pristine condition, he would ask much more.” “How much more?” Allison asked. Gloria rested one beringed hand on the dusty kitchen counter. “About one hundred thousand.” Ian shook his head. That was a good discount, but she didn’t have to do the work. This was his spare time she was discussing. “There are three bedrooms,” Gloria continued. She stepped down a long hall, pushing open the doors one at a time. “Two guest rooms on the left ...” He peered into each. “And the master at the end.” Her smile widened. “We have a bit of a surprise for you in the master.” He waited for Allison to enter first. Once inside the door, he stopped short. Gloria chuckled. “You and your wife would enjoy a little private time together here. I think.” He and his wife? Allison stood frozen before a hot tub in the center of the room, her hands pressed together at the waist. Ian’s mind dived the wrong direction. Not that kissing her wasn’t pleasant, because it was. Not that he hadn’t noticed her feminine curves. But ... but they were a long way from this. “It’s not right,” he said. “We’re not ... married.” Allison glanced back at him, her brow furrowed, and his face heated. Not what he’d meant. “Oh, well,” Gloria said. “It’s a new age. Any couple in love should enjoy the space, but I certainly understand if the bedroom’s not to your taste. We do have

other properties.” “Maybe I should see those.” He took Allison’s hand and half-dragged her out of the house to the car. “Ian?” she called, stumbling along behind. He helped her in, shutting the enger door without looking at her curious face, and sprinted around to the driver’s seat. Leaping in, he cranked the engine and took off. Too fast. Moments later a neighbor blew his car horn, screeching to a halt, half in the street. Allison clutched at his arm. “Ian, slow down.” He expelled a breath and hit the brakes. His heart hammering in his chest, he gathered himself. “Ian, we should talk,” she continued. “It was an innocent mistake. Meredith and I discussed our situation, but she would have had no reason to tell her friend.” He circled the wheel and pulled over to the curb. He shut the car off. Of course, she wouldn’t. That made complete sense. “Look at me.” Allison’s fingers tightened. He turned his head. “I’ve been married before. I know what happens in the bedroom.” She smiled as she said it, and he felt his lips curve. “I’ve never seen you so tense and panicked like that.” She laughed light. “Really, it’s kind of funny. A hot tub in the bedroom? Hubba. Hubba.” His smile escaped at last and chuckling, he rubbed his forehead with one hand. “I’m sorry. It’s just ... I didn’t want you to think I thought ... I mean, that I expected ... I didn’t want to pressure you.” “You know what I thought?” she asked.

He stared at her, silent. “I thought of what Rick would say.” This surprised him, and his question fell out. “What would he say?” She lowered her voice, as she did when imitating her husband. “Baby ... you, me, hot water ... it’s all good.” They laughed together then, the tension releasing, and he took her hand in his. “You know, what I thought?” he asked. Why did he want to it this to her? Because it mattered. Because she should know he valued her that much. “I thought you were so beautiful and someday the moment will be right. I want that moment to be just perfect ... if it comes. I want it to come.” Her smile became thoughtful. “We both have things to work through, Ian. I know that. You know that. Maybe when the moment is right, there will still be things though. Neither one of us is rushing this, but don’t make your expectations so high we can’t achieve them.” “Come here.” He tugged her arm, bringing her face close. “This is why I love you.” He kissed her tenderly, lingering on her lips. She sighed and reached for his face. “You keep doing that, and I’m moving the moment up,” she said. He straightened with a laugh.

“A hot tub in the bedroom?” Cindy’s expression was incredulous. And amused. Allison giggled. “Yes, and Ian freaked. I mean, seriously freaked. Next thing I know we’re in the car going way too fast, and I’m scared half to death.” Cindy lowered her coffee cup to the table. “Did you talk about it at all?” Allison nodded. “Yes. He was afraid I’d feel pressured. Really, it had struck me as funny more than anything else. I never feel pressured by him. But ...” Her words trailed away. “But?” She toyed with her cup. “But I think he holds a lot of anger inside over his ex, anger he doesn’t know what to do with.” The first time he’d said I love you it had seemed like he was fighting it, but she’d never asked why. “Doesn’t he talk about her?” Cindy asked. She dropped her hand to her lap. “Some.” But very little and always guarded. “I can’t demand him to tell me,” she added. “Of course, you can.” Allison pursed her lips. “He loves you, and you love him. So you need to talk about this. The best thing for a relationship is to be open and honest. No secrets. Then when you’re married ...” “Whoa, Nellie!” Cindy’s crooked smile said a lot of things—mostly that she’d known how Allison would react to that statement. They’d been friends a long time, so she didn’t hold it against her, but that didn’t decrease the impact of it. “Getting ahead of things,” Allison said.

“Am I? You don’t think this is heading that way?” Allison’s chest tightened, and she brought her cup, shaking, to her lips. “Sweetheart, are you frightened?” Cindy’s tone changed, and she reached across the table, taking her hand. “Why would that frighten you? This is a good man. You love him.” Why would it frighten her? For that very reason. Because she loved him and look at how she’d reacted to Rick’s death. So what if ... what if ... something else happened? Cindy patted the back of her hand. “Looks like he’s not the only one with things to work out.” Allison released her pent-up breath. “I don’t want to lose the little bit of joy I have now,” she said. “I can’t ... I can’t go there.” “Go where?” Her brow creased, Cindy stared at her. Then knowledge must have slipped into place because she tilted her head and sat back in her chair. “This is about Rick again. Isn’t it?” Allison ducked her head. It was always about Rick. How could one person have so affected her life, altered her behavior, and now, even though he was gone, continue to make her decisions? “Ian is not Rick,” Cindy said. “He’s healthy, and goodness knows, he’s fit. He’s also not a cop, so he doesn’t do anything involving weapons. There are no guarantees in life, of course, but living in fear that something bad will happen is crippling and unnecessary. You have to put some faith in the good side of life.” Cindy tucked a stray hair behind her ears. “Answer me this. Would you go back to life before Rick simply to avoid losing him?” No. The word stood out in her thinking, unhesitant, assured. What little time they’d had together she treasured. Allison shook her head. “Then don’t do that to Ian either. Maybe that’s what you two need to talk about —embracing your future together. Maybe his new house needs to be looked at as

your new house together.” She held up one hand. “Before you say what’s on the tip of your tongue ... I mean, when you’re both ready to embrace that. I’m not pushing you to get married.” Cindy’s words turned over and back in Allison’s head. Their house together. What would it be like to be Mrs. McKinney, and could she really go there in her mind? Could she picture herself his wife? “I see that smile,” Cindy said. Allison clasped her hands over her cheeks. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, a lot I should think about, and I love you for it. But I think my face is going to burn off from embarrassment, so maybe we can get back to our coffee?” Cindy laughed and raised her glass. “As you wish.”

Matt swung a playful punch at Ian’s shoulder, the light impact only enough to make him look up. “Got time for a chat?” Matt asked. Ian tugged his sweaty shirt away from his skin and nodded. “Sure.” He sank down onto a workbench and snatched a bottled water from the floor. “How’s the house hunt going?” Matt took up a place opposite, his own water bottle in his palm. “Lousy. Everything looks wrong. I mean, this is just for me, so ...” “There’s your problem.” Ian took a swig then wiped his brow with his forearm. “Not sure what you mean.” “You’re thinking like a bachelor, but you aren’t alone anymore. You have Allison.” Ian made no remark. He wasn’t leaving her out. She’d come along on most of them, and he’d asked her opinion. Yet— He gazed down at his feet. Except for the hot tub incident, he hadn’t pictured her there. “You know I’m right,” Matt added. Ian glanced back up. “One day, you’ll want her there with you. Life is short, and you’ve been given this second chance. Don’t wait too long.” Don’t wait too long. Allison’s words returned in his thinking. I guess you and Stephanie never had children. Us either. We put it off until it was too late. But children were ... were so far in the future. Wasn’t it? He couldn’t picture marriage at this point. “What about you and Cindy?” he asked. “You seem fond of each other.”

“I’m crazy about her,” he said. “Maybe we’re not ready right now, but I’ve given it lots of thought. How she’d fit into my life, where we’d live, what kind of future we’d have. It doesn’t hurt to plan, and I think that’s where you’re the most afraid. You think planning for it somehow invites failure, but you didn’t plan before and look what happened.” “How could I have planned for that?” Ian asked. How could he predict Stephanie would hire someone to kill him? “Not what I meant. More that you ignored the signs. You two were living separate lives under the same roof, and that’s not marriage.” His rage boiled up, and hands clenched, he swung into the empty air. “I hate her.” Matt never flinched, but stared across at him, his countenance thoughtful. “That’s your other problem,” he said. “Hating her? What should I do then? Love her? She tried to have me killed, and it eats at me. Why? What did I ever do?” Matt leaned over, his elbows propped on his knees, and his tank top billowed open, displaying powerful pecs. For all his years of working out, he would never get into the kind of shape Matt was in. “It isn’t about who you are,” Matt said, as if reading his thoughts. “It’s about who she is. Make up your mind that she made her choice from a warped, convoluted mind and absolve yourself. You didn’t do that. She did.” She did. Stephanie had chosen to cheat. She’d refused to listen to his pleas, when he’d known she was pulling away, and in the end, she’d chosen to end their marriage. Matt rose to his feet and ambled over. He laid one hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Your life now is about you and Allison, nothing else. Buy the house you want to live in together someday and move on.” He left the room, heading toward the showers, and Ian sat there silent. Buy the house he wanted to spend time with Allison in. Allison, who loved him. Allison, who he adored. He reached for his phone, and flipping through his s,

dialed the realtor. “Hey, it’s Ian McKinney. I want to look at that last house again.” He chuckled slightly. “Yeah, the one with the hot tub. That would have to go, but I think the rest has possibilities.”

Ian stuck the key in the lock and sucked in a breath, glancing back at Allison. She smiled and laid one hand on his arm. “You ready?” she asked. He returned his gaze forward. “I think so.” Turning the lock, he shoved the door opened and entered to a disheveled mess. “I can’t believe I bought this,” he said. She laughed, the sound echoing against the walls, and he turned and pulled her into his arms. “Do that again.” “Laugh?” she asked, her breath blowing warm on his chest. “Why?” “It was beautiful, and it fit in here.” She tilted her head back, and their lips met. He held her there, her face to his, their mouths clinging to each other. “You fit my life,” he breathed. She pulled away and taking his hand, tugged him through toward the kitchen. “New cabinets. Don’t you think?” He smiled. “Whatever you’d like.” She opened and shut the one on the end. “These are too nineteen eighties. And the floors have to be done. More tile, but I’d like wood in there.” She waved toward the sitting area. “We’ll paint the walls a rusty color, and of course, there’s furniture to buy. You know, with all these purchases you’re going to have to find more fat housewives as clients.” He shook his head, a grin near splitting his face. “And then there’s the master.” She took his hand again and pulled him, eager, down the hall and through the door. At sight of the hot tub, she squealed and ran across climbing in. “How do I look?” He didn’t run this time, but stood and stared, allowing his thoughts to go where they will. He approached after a number of minutes and knelt at the edge, flicking imaginary water on her face. “I’m changing my mind about getting rid of it,” he said.

“Oh?” She brought her face close to his. “Why’s that?” “For one very good reason sitting right in front of me.” Her cheeks colored, and he held in a laugh. “It’s like you said. I was married once, and I what happens in the bedroom.” “Ian McKinney ...” she replied, her voice going soft. He laid a hand on her cheek. “Someday,” he said. “Someday.”

CHAPTER 7 “Ian says we can have a barbeque when the house is finished. I thought I might make ... Why are you laughing?” Allison swiped the rag over the countertop for the dozenth time, removing yet more dust. The never-ending battle of construction. There was always something to clean. “Because you’ve said his name six times in three sentences, I do believe,” Cindy replied. Allison couldn’t stop a smile from crossing her lips. “Did I?” “Mmmhmm. Ian this. Ian that. I think you like him.” Allison dropped the rag and hugged herself, bobbing slightly back and forth. “I love him.” She dragged out the word love. “I feel like a school girl.” “You’re acting like one, too,” Cindy replied. “Tell me. Is the hot tub still there?” Allison released her shoulders and winked. “Still there.” Cindy laughed heartily, and Allison ed in. “You know, you need to consider selling your place.” Allison’s laughter died as quickly as it had arisen. Rick’s place. A building where every wall told some story of him. “It’s ... it’s not time yet,” she said. Cindy’s gaze turned tender. “Not yet. But it will be. You can’t live in both.” No. But it could be years before she and Ian ever felt comfortable enough to marry. Things were so great now, and— “I’ll tell you when it’ll happen,” Cindy continued. Allison set her thoughts aside. She couldn’t have gotten through any of this without Cindy’s advice, so she should listen now.

“It’ll happen the night you both don’t want him to go home.” Allison looked away. “You still like your freedom. Oh, you love Ian, but something in you enjoys being single again.” She couldn’t deny that, but it ran deeper than just being single. “It isn’t only that,” Allison said. “It’s being strong enough to live single. With Rick, I never had the chance. We were simply always together. However, Ian lets me be myself. I feel like I can think on my own.” Cindy leaned one elbow on the kitchen counter. “You could have done that before.” “Yes, but I didn’t know it. I was wrapped up in Rick from the start, with him and me being together. All I thought of was how to please him, not myself. Not that I was miserable.” She waved one hand outward. “I wasn’t. But Ian’s not Rick.” Cindy began to applaud, the sound of her clapping loud in the empty space, and Allison felt a smile appear. “Did I really say that?” Cindy nodded her head. “You did, and I’m proud of you. Took you months to see it.” Allison’s sigh pulled all the breath out, and her chest deflated. Months. A year and a half, to be specific. Because even before Ian came into her life, she’d wallowed in a sea of ineptness, telling herself over and over how incompetent she was, how she couldn’t survive without him. But she could survive. Oh, her life had changed, and the spot he’d filled remained, despite Ian. In fact, Ian wasn’t there to fill the hole. He wasn’t a replacement, but an addition. He was a spin-off. “Why are you smiling again?” Cindy asked. Allison dropped the rag, leaving it in place, and rounded the counter. She embraced her. “I was thinking of television.”

“Television? And that made you smile?” “Yes, Ian and I are like one of those programs that come out of another. The original was great, but the spin-off is, too. Well, if you play it right.” Cindy’s grip on her tightened. “Takes a strong man to step in behind another one that was so great.” “Amen to that.” Allison straightened. “Now, let’s discuss furnishings because Ian’s starting from scratch. I was thinking over here ...”

The walls of the house seemed to expand around her, each one revealing some secret she’d forgotten. Trailing her fingertips over the bumpy surface, Allison paused, individual moments rising before her. Rick on a ladder, hanging the ceiling fan. Rick stooped over the fireplace, turning the logs. Rick with a wide smile, his arms spread, announcing he’d gotten his promotion. Her lips curved. “I miss you, big guy,” she said. The image faded, and she continued on. In the next room, the memory was the pair of them together, him seated at one end of the dining table, her at the other. He made some snide remark about needing binoculars to see her, she was so far away She laughed to herself. They hadn’t sat that way again. I need you at my side, babe, where I can lean over like this .... Her breath hissed in rapid inhalation, the heat of his lips as real as if he were there. They hadn’t eaten their meal but, consumed with each other, escaped to lie together. She fell down in a chair, the fabric cold, the polished wood hard on her spine, and dragged her nails through the dust. “I miss you, big guy,” she repeated, lower, softer. Her vision stretched through the far doorway to a scene as bright, as defined, as her surroundings. She stood and walked toward it, the summer sun becoming a winter haze, the grass turning brown, and the Christmas tree rising in the corner. Up here? His frustrated expression Her answering giggle. No, to the left. The sides need to match. Why do they need to match? Honestly, Allie, can’t you do this alone? No, because this was what families did. Together. The green of summer returned, and she walked to the window. Across the space

that separated her house from the on next door, she saw the neighbor, holding her baby. Back and forth, back and forth she rocked, her face contented. Families. This was only a house. Other people could live here, make their own memories, and that would be better than her wandering around inside alone, living constantly in her head. Maybe Cindy was right. Maybe she needed to let go of it. If so, then there was a lot of work ahead. The attic was full of stuff. Rick’s stuff. But she could go through it herself this time. Cindy had shown her she was capable. Allison gazed up at the ceiling and steadied herself. “Now, I’ll do it now,” she said. At least, she could go look, then she’d know what she was facing and about how long it’d take. She could sort things, too, and decide what to send back to his family. That seemed wise. Bustling through the house, she changed into a pair of old shorts and a bummy tshirt, then crept to the base of the attic entrance. Breath held, she tugged the string that pulled the trap door open and unfolded the ladder. The darkness seemed to breathe down at her, the gap yawning wider. She released the air pent in her lungs and rose steadily up the rungs until she poked her head into the opening. “It’s not creepy at all,” she said. It took considerable fumbling around in the dark to find the light. She calmed her jittery nerves after and gazed around at the sea of boxes. Starting on one end, she inspected the disarray, reading notes written on the cardboard, shoving this one left and that one to the right. An hour later, having made good progress, she seated herself on one full of old clothes and stuck her hand inside a smaller carton. Love letters. Waffling between the joy of finding them and the familiar wash of regrets, she laid the stack in her lap and stared for a while. Rick’s handwriting was on some and hers on others. “When did we write these, big guy?”

During training. They’d sent him to some police camp, and he’d been gone for a couple weeks. “Did we really write this much?” They had. One letter each day as promised to each other before he’d left. Sorting through the stack, she placed them in chronological order and slid open the first. Her laughter came and her tears. Page after page lovingly opened, read, and refolded, she walked through the memories. She stopped cold at one three-quarter way in. The slash and cut of Rick’s anger showed even in the way he’d penned her address, the tip of whatever he’d use to write it poking through the envelope. A tingle began in her hand and slithered along her forearm into her shoulder. She tugged the pages out and flattened them in her lap. Here, too, his anger was evident. Black lines, jagged, spiked, slashing downward. Her eyes burned. He’d misunderstood. James told me he saw you with someone else. Why? How could you do this to me? I guess I didn’t know you at all. “No, Rick, it wasn’t like that.” She argued with the letter. “It was only one night, and I was lonely.” Dinner and a movie with an old high school friend who’d come to town. Harmless. They’d laughed, talking about teachers or friends who’d grown up, and he’d asked about she and Rick, said he was happy for her. But they’d run into Rick’s best friend, James Dearborn, and he’d called Rick after, worked him into this. The words stabbed into her heart, and the wound, newly healed, opened and bled again. Hands shaking, she read the words, and crumpled over. She couldn’t do this, not again, not when right there in plain English was how Rick would feel. “I won’t,” she sobbed. Not this time. It was over, finished. “I’m sorry, Ian ...”

Her face flooded and her tears dripped onto the page, smudging the ink. The truth stared back at her. Already she was a traitor. Already she’d forgotten. She read the words again, aloud this time, her voice breaking, a catch in her throat. “How could you do this to me? The thought of you with anyone else kills me ...” Kills. Rick was dead. And now, any hope of living again was gone as well. It just had to be that way. The letter clutched in her fingers, she left the attic and returned to her bedroom. She opened the drawers and extracted her things. She’d move back into the master where Rick was. She’d break it off with Ian. Cindy wouldn’t like it. But then, it wasn’t her decision to make. This heartbreak was hers. The phone rang, and she glanced at the number, willing it not to be him, but it was. Staring at the dial, she made no move to answer it, and heard his voice speak through the machine. “Hey. Thought you were home. I’ll try your cell.” Her cell rang seconds later, vibrating on the dresser, but she ignored it. And her weeping resumed.

Ian pounded on the door, then peering through the drawn drapes of the front window, shielded his eyes from the glare. Where was she? He returned and tried again. “Allie?” he called. Her car was in the drive, so she was home. But then, why wouldn’t she answer? He jiggled the knob. “Allie? Open up.” A shadow flitted by the narrow side lite windows and loomed larger. What was she doing? “Allie?” Her voice came muffled through the wood. “Go away, Ian.” Go away? “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” Nothing. No response. He tried the knob again. “Please, I want to know.” The door creaked, and she opened it at last. But she held tight to the knob, only making a crack. “I don’t want to see you anymore. I’m sorry. Please just go.” Don’t want to see him? His insides curled into a ball, and his mouth dry, he stared back at her. “Wh-why? Is it something I did?” He loved her, and she’d said she loved him. No, she did love him. So why was she doing this? “It’s just not meant to be. Please. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” She snapped the door shut, and the locked clicked. He jumped in place. Wasting his time? What about loving her was a waste? Nothing. She’d saved him from himself, from the destructive way he was living, thinking. She’d given him hope and a future. What would make her go back from that?

He reached for his cell and dialed Cindy. Cindy was always able to get through to her. The number rang and rang, voice mail picking up. “Hey, Cindy, it’s Ian. Something’s up with Allie. She’s ... she’s ...” He couldn’t say it. She’d broken it off. She didn’t want to see him anymore. No, she did. He knew she did. There was a reason for this, something convoluted in her thinking that was destroying her again. “She said she’s breaking up with me. Please call.” He hung up and pocketed his phone. “I know you can hear me,” he yelled through the door. “I love you, Allison Hoff, and I’m not about to walk away from us.” Silence answered, and his heart scraped dry. Maybe it wasn’t her that was the problem at all. Maybe it was him. Maybe just like Stephanie, she’d found some flaw she couldn’t live with. Only Allison was a good person, and she would never do what his ex-wife had. “What is wrong with me?” he asked. “Why do I keep messing things up?” There was no answer, only the strangely cheerful song of a bird nearby.

“I did get her on the phone,” Cindy said. She reached out one hand and laid it atop his. “She wouldn’t tell me anything, said that if she did, I’d only try to talk her out of it.” Ian nodded and stared at the table top. “Please don’t give up. I know she loves you.” But not enough to work through this. Two weeks later and she was as closed off as ever. He couldn’t function anymore, didn’t care where he went, what he did, or if he ever moved. Just yesterday, he’d ordered all work on the house to cease, sent the contractor packing. He’d sell it as is. It was nothing without her in it. “It’s her decision,” he said. “If she’s happy ...” “She’s not happy. She’s miserable. I know her. Something triggered this, and in order to fix it, I’m going to have to do something drastic.” “Don’t.” Ian dropped his gaze to the table. “I’ll ... I’ll be all right.” Cindy released a loud breath. “No, you won’t. Nothing’s all right. This is ridiculous, and I’ve reached my limit. If I have to sit outside her house day and night until she comes out and then nab her in the street, I’ll do it. I want answers.” “It’s me,” he said. “There’s something wrong with me.” Cindy’s nails bit into the skin on his chin. Gripping hard, she hauled his face up to hers. “You stop that. You, Ian McKinney, are a good person. Don’t you blame this on yourself.” How could he not? Allison didn’t want to see him, and that meant there was something she didn’t like. “The only thing wrong with you is you’re not her husband, and right now, if I could get my claws into Rick Hoff ...”

Ian gave a weak smile. He’d almost like to see that. Her eyes widened, and he could almost hear the wheels clicking. “I know the answer,” she said, her voice breathy. “I know exactly who can fix this.” She released his face and pushed to her feet. “I have to make some phone calls, but you hang in there. Okay?” He nodded. She hooked her pursed over her shoulder and left him sitting there. He couldn’t see how she could fix anything. Allison had made her decision, and he’d simply have to live with it. His cell rang, and he stared at the number. Not one he recognized. Mashing the answer button, he lifted it to his ear. “Hello?” “Good morning. Is this Ian McKinney?” said a male voice. “Yes, it is.” “Great. My name is Greg Nielson. I’m the owner of an up-and-coming exercise business in Atlanta, and we’re looking for a coordinator at our home office. You come highly recommended.” Atlanta? “I’m in town for two days and would love to discuss a business proposal if you have time.” “Sure.” “Is dinner okay? You name the place.” Ian pulled back the phone and stared at it. Maybe that’s what he needed, a whole fresh start. “Crosby’s,” he returned. “I can be there at eight.” “Sounds perfect. I believe you’ll like what I have to say. See you then.” Ian disconnected and settled the phone in front of him. What were the chances he’d get a call now? It had to be right. It’d pay him to take this seriously. It could

be a complete change was exactly what he needed. For that matter, it could be what was best for them all.

CHAPTER 8 Matt’s steady gaze would have been disturbing, except Ian had made up his mind and nothing and no one would change it. “I’ve signed a contract. I’m leaving in a week.” Matt never blinked but clenched and unclenched his fist. “I don’t think you have given this enough thought,” he said. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. Nothing is keeping me here, and this is a huge opportunity. I called the realtor this morning about selling the house. She says she has an interested buyer. My apartment is already sold. I have to be out in six days anyhow. I’m moving to Atlanta.” “You’ve forgotten Allison. Cindy says she has a plan ...” “Cindy needs to leave us be. It’s over, Matt. Allison chose to end it, and I’m happy with that.” Matt frowned, the first sign of any emotion. “You’re miserable.” Ian thrust to his feet. Turning his back, he stepped away, but Matt’s hand on his shoulder pulled him short. “Cut it out, man,” he said. Ian made no effort to look back. “You still love her.” “I have to move on. Please.” Matt’s hand fell slack, and Ian strode toward the showers. Six days, and those would be consumed with packing and moving. Greg Nielson said he knew of an apartment he could rent, a one bedroom loft. He had very few things to take, so the move shouldn’t be hard. This really was right. How else could he explain such a great offer coming right now? It more than doubled his pay. It was such a great opportunity.

Inside the locker room, he shed his shirt and shorts and, wrapped in a towel, walked the short distance to the showers. Hot water running over his body, he soaped up, refusing to think of the past. No Stephanie. No Allison. He was done dating. Through with women entirely. This had sealed it. From now on Ian McKinney only needed Ian McKinney. In Atlanta, no one would know him, and so there’d be no more regrets. Even leaving Matt and Cindy behind seemed like a good idea. Maybe he’d be able to resume his life at last. One palm on the cold tile, he leaned forward, allowing the water to flood over his face and down his back. And his heart to go down the drain.

She couldn’t stay cooped up forever. Somehow, she’d avoided Cindy for the last two weeks, timing her exits to when she knew her friend was busy. She’d also cancelled her cell service, and changed her home phone. No one knew how to her. It was better this way. They’d eventually forget the whole thing, and she would be free of it. She was doing right by Rick. After all, his feelings were right there in writing. She no longer had to wonder how he felt. Allison gazed at the clock. Ten forty-five. Cindy would be at work. She could run to the grocery store, pick up a few things. Maybe rent a movie. That’d be nice. She’d watch it tonight. Putting on her shoes, she snatched her purse and stepped into the garage. She’d taken to parking her car inside, something she’d never done before, simply to keep them guessing if she was there. Hitting the garage door opener, she cranked and shifted into reverse. She tapped the gas. An older female in the driveway brought her screeching to a halt. She rolled her window down, and the woman approached. “Hello, dear. I was hoping I’d catch you.” Allison swallowed past the knot in her throat. “I ... I didn’t know you were in town, Mrs. Hoff.” “For a day or so. I was hoping we could talk.” “I was headed to the store.” Rick’s mother looked past her at the empty enger seat. “Then maybe I can come along. You’ll put me up while I’m here. Won’t you?” Allison felt her head nod, automatically. “Yeah ... Yes. Sure.” “Good. Now, unlock the door, and I’ll get in.” Allison tapped the lock and waited while she circled the car and climbed into the seat. Mrs. Hoff snapped the seatbelt in place, and Allison continued to reverse.

She didn’t speak until they were headed down the street. “I’m fine,” she said. Mrs. Hoff reached for her hand and taking hold, covered it with her own. “I don’t think so, dear. I think you’re letting that stubborn, pig-headed son of mine have his way again, and you’re about to make a huge mistake.”

Her salad grew more tasteless with each bite, the dressing too salty, the croutons stale. Eventually, Allison resorted to stirring it around. Mrs. Hoff’s soft cough brought her gaze up. Light pushed through the curtains onto the familiar floral wallpaper in the kitchen. “Rick made many mistakes,” she said. Allison glanced at Mrs. Hoff’s untouched plate. Hands in her lap, back erect, she was every inch a southern lady. “His biggest one, however,” she continued, “was thinking that the rest of the world should sit on hold while he maneuvered his way around.” She flapped a hand. “I cannot begin to tell you the number of times I said he wasn’t the only boy on the planet. So self-consumed.” “He loved me.” “No one is arguing with that, dear. But he loved himself a tad more.” Allison stared at her. How could his mother say that about him? Never mind it was true. He was dead now and— “We are all on this planet to help one another,” Mrs. Hoff said, breaking into her thoughts. “We are equals, and that is as God created it. You were never meant to be inferior to him, but I think from the start, you thought you were. He had goals and dreams and the drive to carry them out. You went along for the ride. But now, he’s gone, yet you’re still allowing him to make your choices.” “No, I’m not.” “Aren’t you?” Allison silenced. She simply didn’t understand. It’d been many years since Rick had lived at home, and she’d lost touch. “I want to tell you a story as illustration,” his mom said. “When you were dating, he came home one night talking about his plans to ask you to marry him. ‘I’m gonna do it,’ he said. ‘She makes me look good.’ Those were his exact words.”

Allison winced. “’Rick Hoff, she is a beautiful girl with a loving heart. Your job is to make her look good,’ I told him.” “He ... he did. He loved me.” “I’m not disputing that. But you’ve made him into something perfect when he had his flaws. We are all proud of how he lived and prouder still of how he died, but I am not proud of what he’s doing to you now. In that, he is wrong.” How could she say that? His own mother spoke against him? Allison released her fork at last, dropping it in her plate. “I owe him,” she said. Mrs. Hoff snorted. “He owes you. He needs to let you go, and I’m here to see he does it.” Startled, Allison couldn’t respond. This seemed ... seemed ... like betrayal. “We’re going to cleanse your life of the power of Rick Hoff once and for all. Oh, not the good times, not the things you hold dear, but this need you have to continually bow before him. He wasn’t king. He was simply a great man who loved his wife and died before his time.” “But ...” “He died before his time,” she reiterated. “I’m proud of the hero he was. But I’d be prouder still if he walked in that door. He took my son from me, and my grandchildren and my great grandchildren. In that, he was wrong.” Mrs. Hoff brought her napkin from her lap to the table and settled it there. She rose to her feet. Rounding the table, she extended her hand, and wriggling her fingers waited for Allison to take it. Allison paused, uncertainty swimming through her, then laid her palm inside. Mrs. Hoff tugged her upright, draping one arm around her shoulders.

“Now, how ’bout you tell me what sent you running away from this fellow I heard about.” Allison came to a halt, eyes wide. Ian? How did she know about Ian? And the answer fit into place. Cindy. Cindy would do this. She yanked at her hand. She wouldn’t give in. She wouldn’t allow Cindy to change her mind. But Mrs. Hoff tightened her grip. “Allison, dear,” she said, her voice calm. “Why don’t you show me? Give an old woman some happiness to see a smile on your face.” Allison ceased struggling, her arm going slack. Of all the people in her life, she owed Mrs. Hoff was the truth. She could avoid Cindy. She could turn her back on Ian. But not on Rick’s mother because his death was hers as well and she knew how it felt to miss him. “Show me,” she urged again. “What did Rick do that has you like this?” Allison gazed ahead of them and, one foot at a time, proceeded across the house and down the hall. Inside her bedroom, she picked up the letter from the dresser and handed it to Mrs. Hoff. Mrs. Hoff took a seat on the end of the bed. She was quiet as she read, her face ive, but at the end, she raised her gaze. “This was long ago,” she said. “He got over it.” Allison didn’t respond. It was true they’d never talked about it, simply apologized to each other. “You both forgot it. I know that’s true because otherwise, you wouldn’t have stayed married so long. Sweetheart,” she said. “Why are you carrying around something even Rick forgot?” Her question smacked Allison in the face. Why was she? Those letters had remained buried all these years. No, not buried ... put away. They’d set them aside and began their life together. A good life. Her eyes moistened.

“This fellow, he hasn’t asked you to forget Rick. Has he?” No, he hadn’t. He’d even attended the police dance. “He hasn’t asked you to not talk about Rick either?” No, they’d talked about Rick plenty. “He hasn’t refused to share his life with you? He has some horrible secret you found out about?” Ian with a secret? Ridiculous. Ian was the most open, loving man on the planet. “He refused to it how he felt about you? He’s not including you in his life?” No, Ian loved her. Her breath rushed in and held, suspended. Ian bought a house ... for ... for them. “What are you doing here then?” Rick’s mother asked. “I love you. Rick loved you. But someone else apparently loves you just as much.” “I ... I have to go,” Allison said. “T-to Ian. I ... have to ... must ...” Desperation seized her. He thought it was over. She’d broken it off. She raced down the hall. It couldn’t be too late. It couldn’t be. Snatching her keys, she jumped in her car and sped away.

Shaking Matt’s hand, Ian gave him a hug and thump on the back. “I’m going to miss you, man,” he said. He straightened and reached for his carry-on bag. Matt glanced past him at the digital clock over the airport gate. “Same here. I can’t believe I will go to the gym and not find you there. I’ll be lonely.” Ian shook his head and attempted to smile. “You’ll be fine. Call me when there’s wedding bells.” Matt grinned. “She’s pretty spectacular, and I owe you that.” “Nah.” Ian waved a hand. “Your charm did the trick.” His smile fell, and Matt’s followed suit. All this was pretense—his joy about the new job, Matt’s encouragement to go. One face stared back at him, one he’d give anything to see, if he was truthful. But the truth was too painful. It was safer to lie. “Listen, if ...” Ian cut him off. “I’d better find my seat. I’ll probably end up next to a crying baby or a guy with body odor.” He laughed, the sound forced. “You know how that is.” Matt closed his mouth slowly, and after a moment, jerked his chin. “Yeah. That’s what happens. I once flew all the way to London with a two-year old in the seat beside me. Was horrible.” Ian stuck out his hand again and shook Matt’s. “Take care,” he said. “Sure.” With that, he walked away, his feet squeaking on the polished tiles, the airport gate looming larger and larger. The size of his regrets. He set his bag on the revolving baggage scanner and stepped into the security line. A twenty minute wait finally had him through and on the other side. He retrieved his bag and headed for the waiting area.

A woman in a business suit smiled at him, flirtatious. He looked away. Taking a seat on the opposite from her, he faced the windows. There was almost an hour still. It couldn’t quick enough. Leaving Florida behind was the right thing. He’d even sold his car. Sold the house. Sold the apartment. Sold out his life. He breathed in slowly. That wasn’t his decision though. It’d been made for him the night Stephanie tried to have him killed. He’d only been on the ride since, cast along like so much trash in the ocean, at the will of the tides and the waves. He’d be okay, pour himself into his work and allow time to help him forget. It was best this way. Best. Somehow the “best” hurt more than the worst ever had. Which end was up anymore? And conversely, which end was down? He exhaled and leaned back, shutting his eyes. A tap on his arm brought them back open. The businesswoman had seated herself beside him. “Hey, you look lonely.” She leaned over, her blouse pulling tight across her chest. Ample. Before, he would have cared. But anymore— “You flying to Atlanta?” she asked. He nodded. “New job.” She ran one long nail down his forearm. “Then you’ll need new friends,” she said. His stomach curled. Not friends like that and definitely not female. She leaned closer. “I could show you around.” He glanced away. Show him around what? Her bedroom, most likely. He pushed to his feet. “I’m sorry, but I’m ... I’m seeing someone. And I love her.”

She backed away, tilting her head. “Funny. Looks to me more like you’re leaving town.” Leaving town. He was leaving town. Why? Why had he given up so easily? He loved Allison Hoff. He didn’t want Atlanta. He wanted her. He stared at the plane, the time ticking away, then back at the gate. “You’re right,” he said, “and I ... I have to go.” Snatching his bag, he ran for the gate. It couldn’t be too late for them. It just couldn’t be.

“Sale pending.” Sale pending? But it was Ian’s house, and this was Ian’s yard. He ... he’d worked on it. They’d done this together. How ... where ... The questions badgered her brain, and paralyzed, Allison stood there. He hadn’t been at his apartment. Some new tenant had answered the door, so she’d assumed he’d be here. She could have called, but ... but this needed to be said in person. She didn’t have his number anyhow, hadn’t saved it. He’d sold the house. Her fault. She’d refused to see him, refused to talk to him, and evidently, he’d given up. She could try the gym, but ... no, he’d be busy and it’d be crowded. She’d look like a fool. She sighed. She already looked like a fool. She’d let go of someone who loved her. Worse than let go, she’d pushed him away. For what? For a man who was dead and gone. Allison leaned back against the car and stared at the overgrown lawn and the remains of a hot tub. Who had removed it? The new owners or Ian? Maybe in a fit of rage, he’d torn it out. Maybe the new people hadn’t like it. A car whizzed by, and she didn’t turn around. Not even when the engine revved behind and shut off. Whoever it was came here. Probably the new owners. She should leave. She straightened, her keys hooked over her fingers, and made to return to the driver’s seat. But her gaze fell on a man’s face, and her heart crammed into her throat. “Allison.” Choking, unable to speak or swallow, she stood frozen in place. “Tell me you love me,” Ian said. “You do love me.”

Tears blinded her eyes. “Yes,” she croaked. “Then why are you over there?” He spread his arms. A sob escaping her throat, she ran into them, and desperate, frenzied, brought their mouths together. He tasted of tears. His. Hers. Probably both. He felt warm, safe, secure, and he smelled great, like aftershave and cologne. He was all the things she wanted, needed. He was the future, their future. His hands rose to her face, and he pulled away, staring back at her. “Allison Hoff. Will you marry me?” She trembled in his grasp. “I can’t go one more day without you. Say yes. We’ll buy a new house. I’ll find a new job. We’ll have five children. We’ll name one after Rick. Just say you agree.” She gulped. “Two children, and one Rick in the world is enough. These will have names we choose together.” His face flushed. “That’s a yes then?” She bobbed her head. “Yes.” He let out a whoop and lifted her from the ground.

EPILOGUE “Dance with me.” Allison pressed herself against him, her hand cupped in his, her head turned left, and Ian’s breath blew warm on the back of her neck. “There isn’t any music,” she laughed. He returned the sound with his own, and she swayed to the beat of whatever he heard in his head. “Never thought I’d be married in this dress,” she said. The dress didn’t matter. It’d worked for the police dance. The place didn’t matter, a notary, a public garden, a few dollars too many. The price didn’t matter either. “Never thought I’d be married again,” he returned. She smiled. “Me either.” He kissed the nape of her neck, his mouth moist. “Where would you like to honeymoon? I’ll fly you anywhere.” “Mmm ... Hawaii, but that’s expensive.” “We could take a cruise.” “I hate boats.” He pulled back, and she looked at him. “You never told me that.” She smiled, softly. “Guess we haven’t talked about it then.” “So not a cruise. How’s a drive to the beach sound?” She laid her head on his shoulder. “Anywhere you are is where I want to be.”

His grip tightened. “I have to call Atlanta. Greg said to give it a few days, to think about it, but ...” “Anywhere,” she repeated. “I can adapt to Atlanta.” He twirled her around then came to a halt. “Mrs. McKinney?” “Yes, Mr. McKinney?” “I’m through talking.” A spark lit inside and flared bright. “I’m ready for the other thing I never thought I’d do again.” The flame captured her, rising into her eyes, and blinding her to anything but his face. She folded their fingers together. “But where do we go?” she asked. Not home. That was Rick’s place. This was her new life. “Anywhere you want,” he said, drawing her close again. “Like you said, just as long as we’re together. His mouth found hers, and what the flame had lit began to simmer. “It won’t matter anyway,” he whispered, his voice husky. “We won’t be coming out.” The End

EDEN

From the back cover: The last thing Eden Riske expected when she came home was the discernment of fellow teacher Austin Lowell. Football coach, history teacher, fitness buff, Austin is strength and patience in a handsome package. However, it seems even his presence can’t stop the rumors swirling around her or the hatred of someone determined to do her harm. But this job is supposed to be her salvation, her way out of her troubled past. Except now, everything is falling apart, and the one thing that might destroy her is the very secret she’s held inside for so long.

PROLOGUE End of July “Break,” Austin Lowell clapped his hands and waved the crowd of exhausted football players in his direction. Faces lined with sweat, mouths agape, the high school varsity team leaned reddened palms on grass-covered knees and waited for his next statement. “Good practice today. But as our last, I want it to serve as a reminder how hard this year will be. I will not bend on the effort I’m requiring from you, physically or mentally. Your schoolwork has to be kept up with ing grades.” He stressed the word ing. “I’m also keeping a watch this year for incorrect behavior.” He scanned the disparate group. Having recovered their breath, some had straightened, removing dampened shirts. “We had some misconduct last year, which will not be tolerated this year. Period. If you misstep, you’re off the team.” “Coach, get Everett to pay more attention to the game and less to the girls then.” Austin focused on the speaker. Mark Raines. Raines felt that way because the girl Everett had focused on was his, and from Austin’s recollection, she’d dumped him soon after. “Everyone needs to pay attention to the game,” he said, in consolation. “Otherwise we’ll not make it to finals, like last year.” That had been disheartening and frustrating for everyone, to come so close and fail. A hand tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned. His assistant coach, Gus Rouse, stood a few feet behind. “A reminder about practice in two weeks?” Austin nodded. “Tuesday of the first week of school is our first scheduled practice. Do not be late. Now, off to the showers.” The group broke up, players straggling from the field, and Austin turned to gather equipment.

The sight of Everett lagging behind brought him to a halt. “Jenkins, here,” he said, waving him forward. Everett Jenkins was a broad-shouldered six-foot senior playing defense on Edgemont High’s football team. He was a good player, a not so good student, and a boy with loose morals and a wild tongue. Everett ambled across the well-trodden grass, falling in at Austin’s side. Austin rested his hands on his hips. “I don’t care what you do with your social life in your spare time, but you will leave it off the field this year.” Everett’s expression was a half-snarl, not too unusual for him. As was the snappy response. “Can’t help that I’m irresistible.” Austin bit back a retort. Kids like Everett showed up every three years. One would graduate, and the next would arrive. They all shared similar traits: broken homes, little parental , and a whole lot of testosterone and ego they couldn’t cope with. He’d been there. He was young once and full of himself. Austin Lowell against the world, his mom used to say. It wasn’t until he’d fallen flat on his face that he’d realized he’d messed up. He liked to think he could guide Everett into becoming a better man, but anymore, it wasn’t possible. Society’s everexpanding allowances gave kids too many ways out. “Leave it off the field,” Austin repeated. “Now, go.” Everett took up a lengthened stride and disappeared behind the grandstands. Austin went back to gathering the scattered things. Social life. Now, there’s something he hadn’t had in a while. He used to date; go out partying all night and bring a girl home. But not anymore. As nice as it was to have a woman in his life, it wasn’t a priority now. Instead, life was his job, his players, and the students in his history class. He bagged the practice balls and stuck his clipboard under his arm. “Another year. Another dollar,” he mumbled on his way toward the locker room.

CHAPTER 1 Two Weeks Later Two knocks on the metal door frame dragged Austin’s attention up from the paperwork scattered over his desktop and into the familiar round face of his friend and fellow teacher, Joe Davis. Joe perched there, one leg in the hallway, one stretched into the room, looking much like a stork hunting its prey. Austin’s lips pulled back in a smile. “Rumor has it ...” Joe began, weaving his way around the students’ empty desks. Dropping his pen onto the forms, Austin reclined in his chair, the seat back flexing with his weight. “I don’t indulge in rumors,” he said. Joe scooted to a halt at the edge of the desk and perched himself on one corner. “Oh, but this one you’ll want to hear.” The overhead fluorescent light flickered, casting a white reflective line on Joe’s bald pate. Austin rolled his hand outwards in a go on gesture. “Rumor has it,” Joe began again, “the new Health teacher is a complete babe.” “And where’d you hear that?” Sweat popped out on Joe’s brow; he made no effort to wipe it away. “Tracy in .” If Tracy in said it then it probably was true, but still— “You and Tracy need some time apart,” Austin replied. Joe grinned. “Aw, c’mon, history nut, you know you wanna know what she told me.” “I only want to know if she’s qualified and can do her job.” Joe’s grin changed to a smirk. “You and your morals. You look like a redblooded American male to me, and after I tell you this, you’ll be as interested as I am.”

Austin gave a soft huff and wagged his head. There was no stopping Joe Davis. If it was female, he’d chase it. Joe rubbed his paunch. “So ...” Austin said. Joe’s grin returned. “I knew you’d want to know. Tracy says she was a UCLA cheerleader and ...” He stressed the word and. “And she was in a photo spread for a major sports magazine. Some piece they did on cheerleaders across this good ol’ U.S. of A.” Austin sat forward, and the seat back clicked in place. He picked up his pen. “Is that all?” Scribbling on the page before him, he attempted to ignore Joe. But Joe hovered. “Is that all?” Joe asked, incredulous. “I bring you this juicy tidbit, and you’d rather do paperwork?” Austin glanced up at him. “How do you sleep at night?” Joe laughed. “I have vivid dreams, that’s how.” He stood up from the desk. “Don’t tell me Austin Lowell, fellow ex-Texan, buff football coach, and lonely bachelor, doesn’t sometimes miss having a little sumpin-sumpin in his bed.” Austin made no response. “Oh, that’s right. You’ve put your wild past behind you. Well, I think I can change your mind because I have proof.” Joe extracted his cell phone from his pocket and tapped on the screen. He spun it around and slid it onto the desk. Austin’s eyes widened, and he gave a long, slow whistle. “Meet Eden Riske,” Joe said, “the new Health teacher at Edgemont High.” Eden Riske was stunning. A thick mane of black hair framed an oval face with two jewel-toned blue eyes. And that mouth. He gulped. Full bow-shaped lips. “Houston, we have a problem,” Austin remarked. He wiped his palms on the

legs of his khaki pants. “Now, you know what we’re up against,” Joe said. “Every teenage male in the place will be salivating at her feet.” Austin stared until the phone went dark and then handed it back to Joe. That face was the stuff a man’s dreams were made of, not one expected to walk into a high school and teach a health class. Knowledge smacked him full in the face. “Dear God,” he said. “She teaches health?” His blood drained from his head down into his shoes. “That means ... means ...” “Yep.” Joe nodded. “Sex-ed.”

“Hips like a tractor trailer. I swear.” Adam Riske held his hands four feet apart. Eden arched an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe more like this.” He adjusted the distance closer. “And I was thinking, ‘Put the hamburger down.’” She gave a short laugh and returned her gaze to the cereal bowl, taking another bite. If only she could swallow her qualms as easily. “So, this ‘secret’ job of yours ... you ready to tell me what it is?” he asked. Milk dribbled onto her chin, and she mopped it with one finger. “No. Maybe tomorrow.” A smile faltered on her lips. His expression changed, the lines growing longer. “Seriously, sis, is it that bad?” Bad, no. Then again— “Just not where I thought my life was headed.” She squeezed down her regrets and took another bite. For a moment, the only sound in her ears was herself chewing, but even that was preferable to her gloomy thoughts. Her spoon clinked against the side of the bowl. “Promise me it’s safe,” he said, “or I’m following you and finding out on my own.” She pushed her bowl away. “It’s safe. I do have a college degree, you know.” “Yeah, yeah, and you’re more than a pretty face.” He tapped her chin with one hand. “That’s the problem. You are a pretty face. The male population loses its mind with you around.” One side of her mouth turned up. “Then that should assure you I’ll be fine. Someone will swoop in to help.” “Right,” he huffed, “and they’ll be lapping the floor in your wake.”

He stood to his feet and reached for his cap, his truck keys catching the light. “A man’s work is never done.” He turned as he said this, facing the back door. “I’m off. Maybe something exciting will happen today. Maybe I’ll see someone famous.” “More likely just Mr. Syvertsen,” she said to his back. He flicked a glance over his shoulder and laughed. “Have you seen him since you’ve been back?” She nodded. “At the grocery buying beer. Where else?” He returned his head forward. “Man’s either gonna live forever to spite everyone or go out in a blaze of glory. I’m hoping for the second one.” He took two steps. “Oh ... Staci’s coming over for dinner. Hope that’s all right.” Staci Walden, soon to be Staci Riske. Eden nodded, and Adam gave a backwards wave, locking the door behind him. Living with her older brother wasn’t ideal, but they got along well enough. Plus, he did have the extra space. Informing him she was coming home had been awkward, however. Home? Why? he’d asked. Why? Because she had to. She hadn’t said that, instead spouting something about career paths and rethinking herself. I have a job, she’d told him. That was part of her excuse. A job? I thought being pretty was your job, he’d replied. That would’ve been funny, except it wasn’t. No, a job with actual hours and a paycheck. She’d stalled then, not telling him where or what, her fear being he’d explode and refuse to let her go. He’d always been over-protective, and the thought of his little sister — his cheerleader-slash-model sister — teaching a classroom full of high school students would send him over the edge. Her teaching health would

cap that off. She heard his voice in her head. You are not teaching boys sex-ed. Well, it wasn’t sex-ed. It was health: good eating habits, proper exercise, with a section on reproduction thrown in. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to that part, but she’d manage. How hard could it be? It’d pay the bills, and perhaps one day twenty years from now she’d be out of debt and on her own. She wandered down the long hallway to her bedroom. Plopping down on the bed, she stared at her reflection. Her dark locks stuck out every which way on her head and her cheek shone red where she’d slept on it. She brushed her fingers over her skin and sighed. “Hello, class,” she said. “My name is Miss Riske, and we’re going to learn about our bodies.”

Austin closed his classroom door and moved toward the stairs. He hadn’t been forced to come in today. But with nothing better to do, the football season on the horizon, and a boatload of paperwork to go through, using his time wisely seemed prudent. He’d been surprised to find Joe here. Joe, as a general rule, never volunteered for extra hours. Joe’s excuse had been he was setting up the computer lab. He chuckled at the thought of Joe and a woman ... any woman ... being serious about each other. Joe was nice enough but must not look in the mirror often. Then again, there’s someone for everyone they said, whoever they was. That thought brought him back to the new health teacher, and he resisted the exclamation forming on his tongue. If she was at all like her picture, they’d have serious problems. What was Amelia Fischer thinking? That they were desperate. He heard the answer the second he asked the question. Last year’s teacher had been a fiasco, and everyone was relieved when he left. He’d said one thing out of his mouth and done another in his free time. Like eating junk food. Somehow the health teacher didn’t need to be seen every morning with a half dozen crullers. Austin’s footsteps echoed against the cavernous stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time, he quickly descended and turned right in the direction of the office. The door swung open at his touch. A thin middle-aged woman with closecropped, permed hair looked up from behind the counter forward of the doorway. “Mr. Lowell,” she said. Austin smiled. “Afternoon, Martha. I don’t suppose Amelia’s in?” Martha’s sharp-eyed gaze pierced his overtop a pair of silver reading glasses. “You’ve just caught her. Go on in.” At that, he hooked a left and knocked softly on the large, brown door before entering. Amelia Fischer spun in place, a stack of books in her hand. “Austin. Didn’t expect to see you today. How can I help you?”

He reclined on one hip, his hand on the door frame, the other hanging loose at his side. “The new health teacher.” Amelia’s stern, bulldog expression changed to a smile. “You’ve heard?” “Mmm. Joe.” She laughed. Turning back around, she slipped the books onto a half-filled bookshelf behind her then seated herself behind the desk. She waved at the pair of chairs situated directly in front. He followed her instruction and sat. “You think it’s ... safe?” The bulldog expression returned. As principal of the school, it paid for Amelia to be strict. Yet ... though she had her hard edge, she was also very fair-minded. “She’s qualified,” she said, confirming his diagnosis of her. “And I would add ionate. She believes in the subject, which is more than I can say for Mr. Fayhee.” He acknowledged this with a dip of his head. “If I can speak frankly.” She nodded. “He showed me a photograph. I’m concerned.” She gave a crooked smile. “I have the same concerns, but since you’re here, maybe you can help me out. She’s both young and extremely attractive, so whatever photo he showed you would be accurate. Women’s intuition also tells me being a health teacher wasn’t her first career choice. Maybe you can take her under your wing, give her a little guidance and protection from the masses.” He tilted his head. “Without losing your head,” she added. This time it was his lips that turned upward. “Now, Amelia, we’ve known each other how long?” “Five years. No, six,” she replied.

“Have you ever known me to run around chasing skirts?” Her eyes took on a distinct sparkle. She tented her fingers and reclined in her chair. “Oh, no, not you. I don’t run a dating service anyway. I’m simply asking for your help, as an employee of this fine institution.” He crossed his left ankle over his right knee and hung one hand there. “Besides,” she continued. “I plan on asking her to lead the cheerleading. For that, she’s infinitely qualified. And since you’re on the coaching staff ...” She sat up and slid open a drawer. Withdrawing a pen, she scribbled something on a sticky note. She extended it to him on the tip of her finger. He gazed down at the telephone number written there then back up. “What’s this?” “That’s her number.” Surprise must have ed on his face loud and clear because she, for once, looked apologetic. “It’s my turn to tell the truth,” she said. He waited, unspeaking. How did Amelia know the girl’s phone number by heart? “She’s the daughter of a friend. She was also in my English class back in the day. She saw the position was open and ed me about it personally. That said, if she wasn’t qualified, I wouldn’t have considered her. But she is, so I pulled some strings.” Tough strings to pull. However, there again, it was like her. She pointed at the sticky note. “Give her a call and offer any help she may need. I’ll speak to her tomorrow about the other matter.” He left the office with another wave at Martha, the phone number staring up at him from the yellow square paper. The daughter of a friend? Must be a close friend, which made him wonder who. He wouldn’t ask. Riske. Funny. He only hoped her name wasn’t prophetic.

Her cell phone rang from somewhere at the bottom of her purse. So dropping the TV remote onto the couch, Eden scrambled through the collection of items she’d stuffed in there — tissues, ink pens, a makeup bag, her wallet, and a hairbrush — and closed her fingers around it. Unknown number. Who could it be? “Hello?” “Eden Riske?” said a moderate-toned male voice. “Yes.” Eden dropped her purse in the floor. An ink pen rolled out. “I was given your number by Amelia Fischer.” Amelia Fischer, her former teacher in the eleventh grade. Principal Fisher now. She had to get her head around the fact she was an employee now and not a student. “Name’s Austin Lowell,” the man continued. “I teach history at Edgemont. She said I should give you a call and ask if you needed any help.” Eden slumped down on the couch, her head reclined on a decorative throw pillow. “That was nice of her. I think I’m good though.” Why would Amelia think she needed any help? What was so difficult to do? She’d already made a trip to the office store to purchase a few extra supplies, and those were nothing she couldn’t tote. “Well, she was concerned and insisted, so at least, I can say I followed through.” He gave a laugh. “You probably know how she is.” Eden smiled to herself. “Yes. She can be tough.” Silence placed itself between them, then the man continued. “I won’t keep you,” he said. “You have my number if you change your mind.” There was fumbling on the other end, followed by a horn honking. Sounds of a roadway hummed in the background.

Eden opened her mouth to say thanks. However, what came out surprised her. “Mr. Lowell?” “Please, call me Austin,” he replied. “Mr. Lowell is my dad.” “Austin, since you called, I don’t suppose you’re free for lunch?”

Austin stared at the noontime traffic yet saw nothing but Eden’s face as it had appeared on Joe’s phone screen. God help him. He was having lunch with her? Seven years ago, he’d have jumped at the chance, but that was before he reformed. Living his days half-wasted, hopping from party to party at night, had almost cost him his job and late one night, his life. A horn blew from behind and he hit the gas. The car surged forward. It’d taken landing upside-down in a ditch with a concussion and a lacerated spleen to teach him he was on the wrong road, the road to nowhere. He hadn’t had a drink since. But leaving the bar scene had had side effects, namely the withering of his social life. His drinking buddies disappeared, after all, he wasn’t there getting toasted every night, and his sex life had dried up. The first part he hadn’t minded, the second he had. Until he’d seen the light on that, too. He’d wakened one morning with the realization he lived alone in a huge house with not even a fish to keep him company. “What am I doing?” All the sex in the world wouldn’t take the place of finding the one, that special woman who filled the void in his life. Teaching had become his saving grace. Pouring his heart into his job, he’d buried his head in wars and coups, famines and pestilences, and not taken a breath. “One-twelve Mason Street,” he mumbled to himself. Mason Street ran off of Plymouth and Vine, and Vine ran off ... “There it is.” The green road sign caught the light. He slipped into the turn lane, and his thoughts drifted further. Over time, he’d become Mister Lowell. Not Austin or son or brother dear. Not my darling grandson. But a title and a last name. During football season, he was Coach. There again, a sobriquet with no identity. No real friends either. With his family all in Texas, the closest thing he’d come to for companions here were Joe and Amelia. Joe was right. He was a lonely bachelor.

The light changed, and he swung onto Vine Street. Driving a couple hundred yards, he then made a left at Mason. The house number she’d given was the fourth on the right. He pulled into the driveway and shutting off the car, took a deep breath. Whether he was ready for this or not, he was committed. It was only lunch with a fellow teacher. He was being nice and helping her out. They’d have a friendly conversation and afterward be colleagues. After all, they had to work together. No big deal. He repeated this all the way to the door and while the chime rang. He said it again at the sound of footsteps from indoors. But the second the door opened, all coherent thought dissolved. Because Eden Riske was every bit as sensational as the photograph. What in the world did he do now?

CHAPTER 2 The metal doorknob warmed in Eden’s hand the longer she stood there and stared. Whatever she’d expected of the high school history teacher, Austin Lowell was not it. Crossing well-muscled arms over a broad chest, his shirt sleeves grew taut. She dragged her gaze away and upward to his face, but that didn’t help. He was exceedingly handsome and in very good shape. She should speak, appear coherent. “I appreciate you’re coming on such short notice. I ... I realize it is odd, and I’m sorry if I was too forward to even ask.” His hazel eyes brightened in the noon sunlight, and he gave a disarming smile. “I called first.” Rattled, she moved her fingers to her purse strap and curled them around it like a lifeline. “You did, but maybe you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.” He tossed his head, shifting a lock of coffee-colored hair out of his eyes. “You’ll have to explain that to me.” He motioned toward his SUV parked along the curb. “Shall we?” She locked the door and followed him down the walkway. “Excuse the mess,” he said, tossing a stack of papers in the back seat. “I should clean her out more often, but with school starting and all ...” “Her?” “Georgette,” he said. His smile returned. “Single male thing.” Pulling back into traffic, he circled the block. “So you have a food preference?” “No, though I could go for Chinese.” “Chinese it is then,” he said. He flipped his blinker on at the entrance and made a right. “So explain to me how I’ve gotten myself into anything. You morph into a new form after eating?”

She laughed softly. “That’d be cute. Me, big and hairy.” The corner of his lips twitched. “And not likely, I’d think.” “No,” she attempted to explain. “It’s just wherever I go I seem to attract attention. People either recognize me or know my family, something.” “Speaking of family, Amelia said she was a friend?” Amelia. Principal Fischer. “Of my mother. Mom is Russian, Katerina Ivanov.” “And your father?” he asked. “American. They met in New York, married, and moved here. Mama didn’t speak much English then, and Daddy always had to work. She met Mrs. Fischer at the grocery store.” He lowered his hand on the steering wheel to a position in his lap. “Wait. Amelia speaks Russian?” “Fluently,” she replied. “That was, oh, thirty years ago.” He didn’t speak at first. “She said she was your English teacher.” She nodded. “She was. I ... I’m grateful to her for the job.” His eyes reflected in the rearview mirror, and for a moment, she drank in his expression. What exactly was he thinking? That she was too young? That she looked nothing like a health teacher? Well, that went both ways. History teachers were supposed to be mid-sixties with thinning hair and glasses too large for their face, not buff and attractive. You’re lonely. The voice spoke in her head. Yes, she was, and so maybe that was more why she’d asked him to lunch than anything to do with school. She didn’t date, hadn’t dated for that matter. She wasn’t dumb. She knew her looks got her attention. She’d discovered that in high school. From then into college, on any given night, she could have taken

her pick of eligible boys. And more so after her face appeared in the magazine. That photo spread changed her life. Suddenly, she’d had to hide to avoid the attention. Letters came from nameless faces all over the country and some even from outside it. Her email was hacked twice. Her parents received strange phone calls. It died down in time, and she was able to blend in more. Then again, she didn’t. There was always someone somewhere who recognized her and called her name. But none of that was why she was here. That was a secret from everyone, family included. Just let me start over and forget. Austin pulled the car into the lot of a familiar Chinese restaurant. “Hope this is okay,” he said. He circled the car and opened her door. Walking side by side, they skirted the bumper of an extended cab pickup, then across the lane to the front door. Austin held it for her. “Two,” he said to the Oriental waitress. She nodded sharp and motioned toward a tattered booth. “Buffet?” she asked, her pen poised over the order blank. He glanced at Eden, then back at the waitress. “That’ll be fine, and water for me.” “Hot tea,” Eden said. The waitress disappeared, and he gestured toward the distant food serving stations. “After you.”

She had nothing on her plate: white rice, a few green beans, and some Chinese dumpling thing, which made his meal look like a mountain. But to his credit, most of it was noodles. He stabbed his fork into the mound and lifted it to his mouth, trying at the same time not to stare at her. That was hard not to do. She was so beautiful. He’d seen attractive women before — both in the entertainment news and in person — but in his opinion, she put them in the shade. He wasn’t the only one who noticed either. She was right about her bringing attention. Every eye in the place looked up when they entered, including a teen in the corner whose face he recognized. It took only five minutes for the boy to approach their table. “Mr. Lowell.” Eden laid her fork down on the edge of her plate and raised her chin. Part of Austin wanted to laugh at the boy’s changed expression. His eyes grew wide and his hands jittery. The other part didn’t dare. “S-saw you come in, a-and thought I’d say hello,” the boy said. “Good to see you, Sean. Had a good summer?” The boy replied while looking at Eden. “Good, yeah. Uhm, didn’t mean to interrupt your date.” Austin glanced at Eden. She’d fastened a smile onto her face, one he imagined was practiced by now. “Sean, since you’re here. I’ll introduce you. This is Miss Riske, our new health teacher at Edgemont.” The boy’s eyes spread yet further. “Health?” He swallowed. “Nice to meet you.” “Nice to meet you, Sean,” she said. Sean pulled his eyes away from hers. “Well, I should finish my meal. See ya.” “Bye, Sean,” Austin called. The boy all but ran back to his table. From the corner of his eye, Austin watched

as he leaned over the surface and whispered to his friends. “That went well,” Eden said. “The entire school will know about me before the first day arrives.” He suspected that was true. After all, Joe had come to him today for the same reason. But still, she shouldn’t have to live that way. They returned to their eating, Eden mostly stirring hers around, and didn’t strike up another conversation until his plate was empty. “Tell me, why health?” he asked. She ducked her head, and her hair swept over her cheeks. “Long story which involves my brother. When I was a freshman in college, he had some health problems. He’s about seven years older than me. I was studying to get a teaching degree but didn’t have a major in mind. Watching him struggle inspired me.” “Maybe I’m being forward now,” he said, “but I have to ask. You ever teach before?” She brushed her hair from her face, and the motion shook him. Air fled his lungs. “No. I did my internship at a school for girls though.” He moistened his lips and gathered a breath. A school for girls? So she really didn’t have a clue what she was up against. She obviously knew what affect she had on people, especially men. But a teenage boy was a different creature, and the more disreputable ones— He hated to think what would happen. “I it I’m nervous,” she said. “But I think once I get into the groove of things, I’ll be all right.” But would everyone else? Here he was, a grown man, and an hour into their time together, he still couldn’t think straight. “Amelia was concerned,” he said. “She thought maybe I could ... I don’t know,

be a shoulder to lean on if you needed anything.” “You’re friends?” Eden asked. “Because you call her Amelia.” He shifted in the seat, and the worn vinyl crackled. “Not socially. She’s still the boss. But she’s been nice enough to me over the last few years. I have to it I don’t get out much. Trips to the gym, running when I can find the time, but other than that I pretty much stay home. I teach. I eat. I sleep. Sounds boring, huh?” Boring and unimpressive. Eden sipped her hot tea, and his gaze was drawn to her mouth. Man, she had great lips. Her answer wreathed through him. “I like boring.”

Whether he knew it or not, Austin was a powerful personality. He seemed quiet and easy-going on the surface but exuded an authority underneath. Authority the result of more than his toned exterior. Given his physical fitness, he certainly demanded respect, but he also had confidence, a take-it-or-leave-it mentality. She found that intensely seductive. She could count on the fingers of one hand the men she’d ever felt that way about, and most of those were the crush of a young girl who, like any other girl her age, swooned over whoever was popular. She’d never considered being serious about any of them. But Austin was different. This became more apparent at the door to her brother’s house. He stood there, seemingly prepared to say goodbye and go on his way, but his masculinity wouldn’t let go of her mind. “Won’t you come in?” she asked. She led him through the foyer into the front room. There were two living rooms in the house, the one in the front more formal than the other. Used more for guests, it was, therefore, a bit cleaner. Austin crossed behind her to a shelf built into the wall and paused before a selection of photographs. “This your brother?” he asked. He pointed at a shot she and Adam had taken together a couple years ago. “Yes, Adam. This is his house.” Austin glanced at her. “Adam and Eden?” She smiled. “Dad’s doing. Mom had Russian names picked out for us, but he wouldn’t let her. I guess creativity wasn’t his best thing.” “And the blonde?” Different picture, a five-by-seven standing to the side. “His fiancé, Staci. They’re getting married in about two months.” She liked Staci. She had the bubbly personality the rest of the family lacked.

Lifting a third photo, Austin ran his thumb down the frame. “This has to be your mother. She’s beautiful.” Eden moved to his side. It was a classic picture of her mom. Reclined in a lounge chair, turned slightly sideways, she flashed the camera a fashionable smile. “Inside and out,” Eden said. “Daddy always says Adam and I were lucky to look like her and not him. Here’s the two of them.” She selected a fourth picture and handed it to him. “They’re like night and day.” Where her mother was dark and perfectly coiffed, her dad was blond and slightly ruffled. His shirt hung askew, and his hair flipped backwards in the wind. “You said she was Russian. When did she come to America?” “When she was in her teens. Mid-sixties.” He replaced the photo, and she inclined her head toward the couch. “Have a seat.” They settled on opposite ends, which was just as well for her mental status, and he picked up where they’d left off. “Mid-sixties, so that would’ve been following the Cuban Missile Crisis.” He lifted his hands palm upward in apology. “Sorry, always a history teacher.” She curved one side of her mouth upward. “You asked me why health, so I’ll ask you, ‘Why history?’ Being forward again, you don’t look like a history teacher.” It was relieving to it that to him. He didn’t seem disturbed by it, but leaned back on the couch, his arm resting on the couch cushion. “I want to ask what a history teacher should look like, but I’ll answer your question first,” he said. “History was always my best subject. Played football all through high school and struggled in Math and English. But in history I received all A’s. Then in college, I took a course on the history of Eastern Europe and was fascinated. It became an easy fit.” “No college football?”

“No. Not that I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t see myself playing in the big leagues, and besides, I had other things on my mind.” Her face must have asked the next question because he immediately supplied the answer. “I had a drinking problem.” Startled, she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. “I ... I don’t know what to say.” That he would share this with her, a stranger— “It isn’t necessary to say anything. Took me many years to it I had a problem and seek help.” “But you look ...” Amazing. The word faltered on her tongue. She tried again. “Why would you share that with me? We don’t know each other and I ... I can imagine you’d rather keep it to yourself.” He studied her, his head craned to the left, an earnest look in his eye. “Everyone knows anyhow. I’ve been open enough, both with faculty and students. If my story can help one person, then that makes it worth it to me. I only hope it doesn’t damage me in your mind.” She waved her hand. “No, of course, not. Amelia wouldn’t have given you my number otherwise.” Amelia couldn’t know, didn’t know ... Eden glanced away from him. She couldn’t possibly. No one did. How uncanny then that he’d told her this. His voice called her back into the room. “As to your other question ... what does a history teacher look like?” Safe ground. She smiled and finished his question. “Probably the same as a health teacher.”

“So who was this guy?” her brother asked. Eden sipped her iced tea, enjoying the sugary sweetness. “Works at the local high school. Got my number from Mrs. Fischer.” “Amelia Fischer? Mom’s friend?” She inclined her head. “Yes.” “So is he cute?” This remark came from Staci. Her blue eyes sparkled beneath a crown of golden curls. Adam glared at her, yet a smile rose on his face. Eden couldn’t restrain a laugh at them both. “Well? It’s a fair question,” Staci said to him. “She’s here. She’s single. She’s gorgeous.” “She’s a target,” Adam said. Eden inserted herself in the argument, making a pointed circle at the side of her head. “She has ears.” They both turned a grin toward her. “And he’s extremely cute,” she replied. Staci clapped her hands. “Oh! Love is in the air.” “Now, hold on.” Adam pointed his finger at Staci. “Don’t jump the gun here. They had lunch together is all.” “But she has the hots for him. Look at her.” He turned his face. “Okay, I give you that, but ...” “Hello? In the room,” Eden said. They both laughed.

“And how could you tell I have the ‘hots’ anyhow?” “Well,” Staci warmed to the subject. “If you could see yourself, you’d know. Your cheeks blushed when you said it, and your tic showed up.” Eden blinked at her. “My what?” “Tic. You didn’t know you had a tic?” She shook her head. “No.” “Well, you do. It’s this little muscle right here.” She put her finger on her cheek. “You get nervous, it gets all jittery.” Eden laid her palm over her face. “Great. Now, I feel self-conscious.” Staci waved her hand. “Sweetheart, that’s your only flaw. Now, tell me about this handsome history teacher.”

“You had lunch with her?” Joe’s voice raised an octave, and his scalp reddened. It raised another with his next question. “She rode in your car?” “Tone it down,” Austin replied. He should never have called Joe about this, much less agreed to meet him anywhere. Joe coughed and lowered his voice. “So what was she like?” Austin wagged his head. “What are you fifteen?” “Yes. Now, what was she like?” Austin gave a single laugh. “In one word, spectacular. In two, very sweet. In three, doesn’t have a clue.” “That was four.” “You get the point. She’s inexperienced but determined.” Joe’s mouth broadened into a grin. “And it’s your job to help her out, point her in the right direction, give her a little ...” “All right. I get it.” Austin chuckled. Joe took a swig of his soda. “I’m green. Jealous green. But then you’re manlier than me.” He sighed. “You know the girls I get? Video freaks with acne scarred faces, callused thumbs, and anime t-shirts. Last one called herself Vixen. Not kidding about that, by the way.” “I think you try too hard,” Austin replied. “As for today, it was only one meal. We have to work together, and Amelia asked me to call.” It was best if he didn’t make such an issue about it. A job-love relationship never worked out well anyhow. “You’re kidding, right?” Joe slapped his glass down on the table. “You’re going to make light of this? I may be jealous green, but I’m not inexperienced green. Pursue this one.” As if there’d been a last one to pursue.

Austin stuffed a fry in his mouth and chewed slowly. He swallowed. “She was great. You should have seen Sean’s expression when he came to the table. I’m wondering if I looked like that.” “Ah, the lure of the female,” Joe said. “We say we don’t need them, but we do.” He leaned forward suddenly. “So what happens tomorrow?”

CHAPTER 3 Austin showed up at work to a building bustling with activity, all the school’s other employees also arriving for their first official day back. He greeted several people in the hallway on his way to the main office. Bob in janitorial services and Barbara Thomas in special education. Martha was absent behind the desk, but Tracy was there. Her sly expression said a world of things, and he tried to it off. But Tracy had always been a bit of a flirt. “Hello, big guy,” she said. “Heard you had a hot date.” He didn’t need to ask from whom. He’s the one who’d blabbed to Joe, and Joe and Tracy were as thick as thieves. “I had a nice meal with a beautiful lady,” he replied. She flapped her hand at him. “Humble as always.” “She in?” he asked, glancing toward Amelia’s office. “Not sure. She was, but she has her dander up this morning.” At his curious expression, she continued. “Those beginning Spanish workbooks didn’t come in, and the company says the delay is some two weeks.” That’d do it. Amelia was all about efficiency and deadlines. “I’ll just come back,” he said, and he faced outward. Amelia upset was not something you needed to encounter first thing in the morning. He stepped forward but heard his name as he moved into the hallway. “Mr. Lowell.” Pausing, he met Amelia’s keen-eyed gaze. “I need your muscles,” she said, one finger crooked. “Follow me.” Moving upstairs, she led him to a storage closet. Crammed against one wall stood boxes of books and against the other, metal shelving covered with an

assortment of items. She stabbed the air with one pink-painted fingernail. “Pick up two of those and take them to Miss Riske.” Miss Riske. So that was her game. Aware of it, still, Austin said nothing. Amelia, however, gave a sly smile. “She speaks fondly of you.” “Oh?” He tried to act casual. “Mmm. Something like, ‘You didn’t tell me how handsome he was.’” Austin raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you were running a dating service here,” he remarked, quoting her. Her face straightened. “Of course not. But I’m tired of you stumping around, your head buried in a book instead of living life. You only see the backside of a workout bench and the windshield of your car, I do believe.” She’d be right about that. “Besides,” Amelia flapped her hand. “Something’s up with her, and you’re my spy.” With that remark, Austin frowned, his gaze straying to the boxes. “Spy?” “Well, maybe spy is a bad word. Listen, her mother’s my very dear friend, and she’s worried. I promised to keep an eye on her, and what better way to do it than with a fellow teacher who also happens to be a lonely man.” That Amelia had just referred to him as lonely struck him hard. Even she had noticed. Truthfully, he hadn’t felt lonely at all. Not like he sat around at night moaning and groaning over an empty house and no love life. He was happy enough. No, instead, it was more that he didn’t complain, and he should have. “I don’t know how comfortable I am ‘spying’,” he said, looking up. She patted his arm before moving back into the hallway. “Not asking you to. In fact, you don’t have to tell me anything ... unless you happen to think I need to know. I’m simply asking you to be her friend and help her do her job.” She turned away from him and drifted down the hallway. “Now, I have work to do.

Take the books to her.” Austin stood still, his mind churning, and watched her go into the stairwell. Then he inhaled and spun back toward the boxes. Balancing one on either arm, he stumped down the long hallway to the health classroom at the end. He bumped the door with his elbow and caught eyes with Eden. His heart skipped a beat. “Austin,” she said. “Put those anywhere.” He settled the boxes on a pair of empty school desks. “How are you?” he asked. She smiled. “Amelia tell you to ask that?” He gave a short laugh. “Yes.” “I’m fine. You can report back.” She wandered to the boxes and, peeling back the tape, pulled the cardboard flaps open. She took out a handful of books. “She didn’t ask me to report,” he said. Eden flicked him a glance. Setting the books on a third desk, she reached back into the box. “No, she wouldn’t, but you’re faithful. You would tell her eventually.” Faithful? Like a dog? The frown Austin had had moments ago returned. He slumped onto one hip. “Look, I’ll get out of your way,” he said. Evidently something in his tone must have told her he was upset because her expression changed. Placing the second stack of books over the first, she grabbed hold of his sleeve, stopping his exit. “Austin, hey, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” He turned around. It was, but he kept that to himself. She wasn’t obligated to him in any way and was free to say whatever she liked. “Forget I said it?” Her palm closed over his arm. He nodded sharp. “Forgotten.”

She seemed to waffle then, as if weighing some huge decision. With her next words, her face altered again, and fear pooled in her eyes. “I could use some advice,” she said, “if you’ve got a moment.” He relaxed his stance. He shouldn’t be hard on her. Being the new teacher was bad enough, but being a new teacher made it worse. He waited. “Sure.” She backed up a few steps and sat down on a desktop. “How exactly am I supposed to behave on the first day? Do I simply introduce myself and launch into some pre-prepared speech?” “Introduce yourself, yes. Speech, no. The students will see through it. But act confident, like you know what you’re doing, because the minute you show any slack at all they’ll use that against you.” “I don’t imagine they give you guff,” she said. He declined his head an inch. “Of course, they do. But it’ll be worse for you because you’re female, new, and ...” His words fell away. “And?” she asked. He mashed his lips between his teeth and released them. Dare he it what he was about to say? Then again, he’d begun the statement; he hadn’t any choice but to finish it. “And you’re beautiful.”

Eden stared into Austin’s face, his words soaking through her skin and swishing up her bloodstream to her heart. She’d been told that before. Family. Friends. Guys hitting on her. Photographers. Magazine execs. But coming from Austin Lowell, it was far more powerful, and it replayed itself in her thinking until she saw he waited for her to respond. She forced her head to stay upright. Ducking and hiding would do her no good at this point. He’d said it. She should acknowledge it. “That’s sweet of you,” she said. He crossed his arms, an action that made him look impressive. “It’s the truth.” “And you always speak the truth?” One corner of his mouth twitched. “Maybe more the older I get. Not so much when I was young.” She arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Now, there’s a subject I want to pursue.” He chuckled. “Let’s just say I was ... less than honest in my youth. Got called out for it eventually and changed my ways.” “Why do I think ‘changing your ways’ is easier for you than for others?” His smile left, and he worked his brows into a v. “I don’t know. It’s never easy for anyone, but I have had more practice than some. The way I see it, when something’s not going right in your life, you really haven’t any choice but to go another direction.” “Like with your drinking?” He inclined his head. “Like that. Or lying as a teen. Or looking in the mirror and realizing I didn’t like myself.” “Didn’t like yourself? When did Austin Lowell ever have that thought?” she asked. “When he was a washed-up drunk lying in his own vomit in the floor of the

bathroom in some unnamed bar somewhere.” She all but winced at the image. How could he be so frank about it? Just put his life out there for people to see and judge. She stood to her feet and returned to the box. “I can’t picture that at all, not and look at the man you are now.” His hand on her shoulder froze her in place. With gentle pressure, he turned her around. However, he didn’t speak, but gazed down at her, his eyes speaking volumes. The longer he stood there, the smaller she felt, and inept, and vain. And female. What was this ... this strange desire she had to do the right thing when he was around? To confess the truth? He returned his hand to his side, but the weight of it remained. His next words penetrated her defenses yet again. “Whatever it is,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll listen.” She collapsed in her desk chair after he left and buried her head in her hands. There was too much to tell. Too many things that had happened to her, each one a domino leading to the next, and all of them spiraling her life down into an abyss she hadn’t been able to get out of. How to share her descent and the slow, painful climb out? She raised her head and looked around the room. This was salvation. This job. This place. This was her becoming normal again and not the wasted flesh she’d been. Was it too much to hope it’d work out? Even as determined as she was. Was it too much to believe she could ever have a man like Austin take her seriously? “Don’t kid yourself.” she said to the empty room. She was simply a pretty face, something eye-catching, worth looking at until something else more valuable came along. People didn’t see that side of her life. “It’d be so wonderful to be you,” some said to her.

But it wasn’t wonderful. What she wouldn’t give to be the average girl with the average face who blended in with the crowd.

Absentminded, Austin rearranged the papers on his desk, not really paying them any mind. Instead, Eden’s expression glowed before him, the troubled look she’d held onto just long enough he’d recognized it. That was the face of addiction. He’d seen it enough every time he’d looked in a mirror to not recognize it. But what had hers been? Not alcohol. Pills maybe? Why would a woman as gorgeous as she was resort to a substitute? Because that’s all they were — another drink, another drug, either one was there to replace the inability to live life to its fullest. He’d traded his days in for the blackness the bottle brought, preferring not to think, not to see what was right in front of him. What was her pain? She wouldn’t tell him, not yet at least. Mutual attraction wasn’t enough to warrant the telling of secrets. No, for Eden that’d take commitment, and commitment was something he wasn’t sure he was ready to give. He didn’t know her well enough for that. It explained why she was here though, why she’d taken this job. The search for normalcy, to believe you could make good choices again, find happiness. He sighed and ran one hand through his hair. Did Amelia Fischer know? Probably not. It took an addict to recognize an addict. And now ... an addict with a huge load on her shoulders. Eden obviously hadn’t worked it all out, and throwing herself in front of a classroom full of teenagers, half of whom were boys, wasn’t the easiest road back. She’d need , far more than she knew. Maybe far more than he was ready to give. Then again, what choice did he have? It wasn’t in him to feed her to the wolves and walk away.

Lunchtime’s arrival was like coming up for air, and the knock at the door a lifering thrown out for her to catch. Eden pulled herself from her chair to greet the face smiling in at her from the doorway. “Staci?” Then it hit her. Staci. Her face leveled. “H-how?” How had she known to find her here? Staci folded her fingers together at her waist. “I followed you.” “Adam’s orders?” Eden asked. Staci shook her head. “No. He knows nothing about it.” Walking casually across the classroom, Staci toured the walls, running her fingers over posters left from last year — the skeletal system, the four food groups, proper exercise. She then lifted a textbook from the stack. “Health? You’re teaching health?” Eden sighed. “Yes. It is my degree.” Something people tended to forget. Staci ran her thumb down the cover page. “Why didn’t you say something to us?” Why? That was easy, and the answer spilled out Eden’s lips. “Judgment,” she replied. A fleeting pain crisscrossed Staci’s face. “We don’t judge you.” “You would have.” “We would have? Why?” Opening the book, she flipped through the pages. “Why would we judge you?” Eden gave no response but abided her time. It took only minutes for Staci to gasp and look up. “The reproductive sys ... Eden, you can’t teach this.” Exactly. Judgment. Eden held the remark in. “I can, and I will. It’s my job.” “But ... but you’re ...”

“I’m what?” Eden rose from her seat and, recapturing the book from Staci, set it back in the stack. “I’m sick and tired of everyone deciding what I can and can’t do because of what I look like. Neither one of you expected me to come home, so I guess I’m supposed to spend my life schmoozing around in the magazine world, being known worldwide for my ability to make men think of sex.” Staci startled. “Eden, honestly ...” “Well,” Eden snapped, “Isn’t that it? They photograph me; put me on the front page, and then what? Every man who picks it up thinks the same thing. ‘How do I get with her?’ What am I, stupid?” “No.” Staci spoke quietly. “I’ve never seen you like this.” Eden inhaled, her nerves rattling her frame. “I’m ...” She went to say, sorry. But Austin standing in the doorway shut her up. Staci’s glance followed hers, and her manner altered. Once again, she was the bubbly person Adam had grown to love. “Staci Walden,” she said, extending her hand. “Soon to be Staci Riske.” He shook her hand and looking past her, met Eden’s gaze. “Ah, the future sisterin-law,” he said. She laughed. “That sounds like a bad thing the way you pronounce it.” He laughed once, “No, of course not. Austin Lowell. I came to ask Eden to lunch, but I can see ...” “You can see that she’s waiting for you,” Staci finished for him. Her back to Austin, she gave Eden a wink. “I was just visiting on my way to a dental appointment.” Adjusting her purse strap on her shoulders, she moved past him through the door. “We’ll talk later, sis,” Staci said. “Me and you.” Eden nodded. So her secret was safe. For now. And yet it wouldn’t be long before Adam knew, and she’d be forced to repeat her performance. Austin approached, his presence looming large over her. “Care to explain?”

His question was casual, light, but built behind it was that force he had to make her confess. Eden exhaled. “I haven’t told them.” It was fruitless to fight Austin’s power over her. Perhaps she needed someone like that, someone to keep her from mes again. “I was afraid of what they’d say,” she finished. He placed an arm around her waist and propelled her through the classroom door. Meek, she followed. “And what’d she say?” he asked. “What I expected. I can’t do this because of what I look like.” “You didn’t think she’d say that?” He moved Eden toward the stairs. “Yeah, I did, but that doesn’t make it easier. She won’t tell Adam. Yet. She’ll talk to me first, but then she’ll say she can’t keep secrets from him, and I’ll be forced to speak up. He’ll do what she did and lecture me and ...” “Why don’t you let me be there?” Eden halted on the step, one leg down a tread, one up. “Why? I mean, that’s nice, but you’re not obligated.” His height advantage only added to the aura he exuded. “I’m not obligated, no. But it’ll make things easier on you, and that’s what I’m here for, ? To help?” She stared up at him, considering his offer. Adam would be less likely to blow up with a guest there, which would make her bringing him perhaps rather mean. But then again, Austin could reassure her brother she’d be all right, that he’d be around to watch over her, an idea more and more appealing with each day. “Okay,” she said. “I’m still not quite sure I understand why you’re doing all this for me, but I do appreciate it.” She turned to continue down the steps, but he grabbed her arm. She glanced upward. He had a curious expression on his face, as if he already knew her entire story, but that wasn’t possible unless he’d ed the contents of her brain. Yes,

he was a powerful person, and obviously, very perceptive, but he wasn’t God. “I’m doing this for you because I like you,” he said. “I thought Amelia asked.” That was infinitely unfair for her to point out, but he didn’t appear to be hurt by it. “She did, but that was yesterday, and this is today. I can make up my own mind.” She studied him and re-ascended the steps until standing just below him she kinked her neck and met his gaze. “What have you decided, Austin Lowell?” A challenge, that’s what this was. Why she felt compelled to push him for some declaration was unknown, but then his power over her was unknown. His lips curved upward. “That where you’re concerned, I’d better watch my steps.” She crossed her arms behind her back. “Why’s that? You’re infinitely stronger than I am. I’d think you could dispose of me however and whenever you wish.” He placed one hand on the stair rail and tightened his grip. Frozen in place, she couldn’t look away. “Can’t you?” she asked, but her voice broke in the middle. She swallowed with a dry throat. He coughed lightly. “Not anymore.”

CHAPTER 4 Standing on the far side of the pool deck, Austin gave a wave to the neighbor peeking over the fence. “Go on, you old biddy,” he mumbled, a false smile on his lips. Harriet Murman was by far the nosiest person on the block, and it didn’t help to know she lived next door. “Nosy, but harmless,” he reassured himself. Though harmless was maybe being kind, and he should say helpful as well because she’d nabbed a burglar once, not at his place but the one opposite hers. Her gray head disappeared behind the fence, and he exhaled. He roamed his gaze over the lawn; it could use mowing, but that’d bring her eyes back over the fence. He half-laughed. I might be old, but I ain’t blind, she’d said to him once. “Nosy, lascivious old woman.” No, mowing would have to wait for tomorrow evening because she’d be off with her cronies playing canasta. Turning around, he wandered back into the kitchen. He extracted a bottled water and then moved to the living room where he descended onto the couch. He flipped on the TV, but within moments, hit mute. His mind wasn’t in it. Instead, he was in the stairwell staring down at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life, wondering if he was about to make a mistake. He exhaled an explosive breath and leaned his neck back on the cushion. Eden Riske was complicated, far more than he’d expected. Laying his offbalance personal feelings aside, Monday was the first day of school, and though he’d given her tips, he’d failed to express the one she needed to hear the most — the one about the teenage male mind. All through lunch, he’d been unable to figure out how to kindly say she’d drive

the boys in her class out of control. She was awfully sensitive about that already, as evidenced by the tail-end of the conversation with her sister-in-law he’d overheard. Frankly, he couldn’t blame her for being upset. It was hard to always be judged for one thing to the point of it not moving you forward. He laid his palm flat over his forehead, shading his eyes. “Just never thought that judgment would be because of beauty.” People were cruel. They talked about you for failing; they talked about you for success. They talked about you if you looked different, if you weren’t smart, if you were too smart. There was always something people didn’t like, and that was a shame really because everyone had a talent. He’d told his students and players that often enough. Eden had graduated from college with a degree. She’d focused on teaching and health, both irable things, then had been sidetracked from that by other people. How had that happened? Had some smooth-talking salesman sidled up to her, whispering in her ear how lovely she was, how much money she’d make? And she’d been sucked in only to discover herself a needle in a haystack? She’d indicated as much in their conversations. A shame because she was as lovely on the inside as she was on the outside. Why would people want to damage that? He shut his eyes and drifted off, sleep tugging at his eyelids. He jolted awake at the ring of his phone. Briefly muddled, he pressed his fingers between his eyes, then reached for the receiver. “Hello?” “Austin?” Eden. Pulling himself upright, he shook himself awake. “What’s wrong?” She sniffled. “Can you come over? It’s all hit the fan.” His stomach clenched. “Be right there.”

“What did you call him for?” Adam was yelling now. Their conversation, begun innocently, had escalated in the last ten minutes. Eden had never seen him quite this upset. “Because he can talk some sense into you,” she replied. He glared at her, his hands clutching the tabletop; she could well imagine steam coming out his ears. “Talk some sense into you, you mean,” he snapped. “No way is my little sister teaching sex-ed to a bunch of high schoolers!” “Adam, please stop yelling.” But he didn’t, and his rant became an endless stream. Withering, she sank down onto a dining room chair, the round spindles digging into her back. The food Staci had prepared lay uneaten on the table. Uneaten and cold. Staci gazed at her apologetically, every line of her face expressing the torment she felt inside. But Eden wasn’t mad at her. She hadn’t meant for it to come out. But in saying where she’d been, she’d let it slip she’d “talked to Eden at her new job.” Adam only silenced to catch his breath between comments. Then at her unresponsiveness, he halted again. “Well?” “Well, what?” “Well, explain this to me.” Explain. But that wasn’t an explain because I’m listening but more of an explain and stop doing it. She sighed, a throb in her skull spiking sharp between her eyes. “I went to college. ? Studied to get my teaching degree.” “Cute. You’re going to go that route?” She frowned. “What did you think I was going to do with it? Hang it on the wall? No, wait.” She held up her hand, palm outward. “You thought I’d be the

sex toy on the magazines. That’s a much higher thought of profession.” He didn’t respond at first but lowered himself into his chair. His next statement was quiet. “I didn’t like you doing that.” “So I’m not doing it. But I have to have a job, and this is what I’m qualified for. Besides, once you meet Austin ...” The ring of the doorbell broke into her speech, and she jumped to her feet. Exiting the dining room, she crossed through the living area to the front door. She inhaled before opening it. Austin gazed in at her, his right arm clasped to his left, his brow furrowed. “You okay?” She nodded. “I’m sorry to do this to you, but I couldn’t think of anyone else that could convince him. Honestly, I feel like a child.” She backed up to allow him in, then shutting the door behind him, turned toward the dining room. However, Austin made no effort to follow, so she stalled. “He has a right to be upset,” he said. Startled, she gazed up at him. He was taking Adam’s side? “He loves you, and I can imagine he worries for you. Give him some credit for being human.” “But I thought ...” He smiled and patted her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll do my best, but I think you needed a reminder.” He waved her toward the interior of the house. Adam’s eyes grew wide at Austin’s entrance, and Eden resisted the urge to grin. Austin well filled the doorway. “Austin, this is my brother, Adam, and you’ve met Staci. Adam, Austin Lowell. He teaches history at Edgemont.” “Good to meet you,” Adam said.

Eden doubted that was true, and especially not now that he looked like he’d swallowed a time bomb. “Please, sit,” Eden said, motioning at an empty chair. Austin took a seat to her left and leaned his elbows on the table. “First, I came because I promised Eden if she needed any help, she could call me. I believe in keeping my word, so here I am. But let me say I don’t want to place myself into a family argument or make any judgments on what’s been said. I can only say whatever she needs at Edgemont, I’ll be there to provide. My classroom is right across the hall, and I can assure you, I’ll check in often.” Adam didn’t speak, but quietly stared back at Austin. It was a showdown. Guns at ten paces. Eden buried the thought. Adam reclined, his hands falling into his lap. “I appreciate your willingness to watch over her,” he said, “but this isn’t up for debate. She’s not teaching.” “Adam!” Austin laid his hand on her arm. “Mr. Riske.” “Adam.” Austin began again. “Adam, I understand your fear because I share it.” Eden stared up at him. What fear? What was he talking about? “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and if she affects me, then what will she do to a teenage boy? But I’m asking you to trust me.” Heat spiraled across her skin, spreading outward from the placement of his hand and along her neck into her cheeks. She affected him? He ... he thought that? “Eden’s always been naïve,” Adam said. “It’s what I love about her.” Austin inclined his head. “I understand that, and I agree. But I think she needs to do this, to prove something.” “How can you possibly know that?” Adam asked. “You’ve known her, what?

Two days?” Austin glanced at her, and once again, she had the strongest feeling he knew all there was to know. “Let’s say, I recognize in her some of myself and know what it’s like to need to see if I can do something or not. I won’t let her be hurt. You have my word.”

“Bye,” Eden said softly. Austin nodded and stepped from the porch onto the paved walkway. She watched him lumber to his car, iring his broad back and very trim waist. He glanced at her again before climbing in, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. He flipped on his headlights, cranked, and drove away. Not until she couldn’t see a trace of him did she return indoors. She faced Adam in the entrance. “He’s quite a man,” Adam said. She inclined her head. “Yes.” “You know he likes you as way more than the teacher across the hall.” He said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. She said nothing, only stood there and stared. If he did, then it was mutual. Never had she been so taken with a man before. “That’s the only reason, I’m giving in, that and he looks strong as an ox.” Eden’s lips twitched, and Adam smiled in response. “You like him.” She bit the inside of her cheek and released it. “Yes. As more than the teacher across the hall.” He patted her cheek. “I want to see you happy. You know that.” His hand stilled. “What did he mean, he saw some of himself?” “I ... don’t know. He’s deep sometimes.” She couldn’t say and wouldn’t say. Austin’s story was his own to tell, that he somehow knew of her past was amazing, but— “Sis, there’s nothing about your coming home that you haven’t told me, is there?” “No. I came home to feel normal. That’s the truth. And I’m nervous and scared about tomorrow, but Austin will be there. I ... I just have to do this. Please try to

understand.” He lowered his hand. “I am trying. Mom and Pop are going to flip.” “Don’t tell them yet. Please? Let me work the first week, and then I will ... I promise. I never wanted to keep it a secret, but I knew if I told you, you’d be upset.” “And I was,” he said. “Well, gang-o, I gotta leave, too.” Staci walked into the foyer and crossing over to Adam, kissed him on the mouth. “You’re a good big brother, but a bit overbearing. Don’t you think?” He folded her in his arms. “Way overbearing, but have you looked at her lately?” Staci spun her head around, and Eden took in both of their gazes. “What?” she asked. Staci laughed. “I’m going to make a suggestion about what to wear to class on your first day.” “A shroud?” Adam asked. Eden shot him a look. “Put the hair up and dress conservative,” Staci said. “Watch the neckline, and light on the makeup. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be for your students.” “Noted,” Eden said. It was all good advice, and things she should have thought of. “And as for Mr. Lowell ...” Her voice dropped to a purr. “You let him walk away, and you’re a fool.” Eden pulled back a smile and turned toward the living room. “Never said I was going to do that.”

“Miss Riske, in my office, please.” Falling in line with Amelia’s footsteps, Eden swerved in the direction of the main office, dipping her head beneath the gust of icy air whooshing through the large glass door. The girl behind the desk smiled at her, and Eden returned the expression. What was her name? Tracy ... something. “After you,” Amelia said in the entrance to her private office. Eden stepped inside, for a brief moment feeling more like a student than an employee. “Am I being scolded?” she asked. Amelia laughed lightly. “No, of course not.” “It keeps coming back to me like that,” she said. “This feeling I’m seventeen again.” Taking a seat before the desk, she laid her purse in her lap. “Oh, that we all might be seventeen again,” Amelia replied. Eden gazed across the sea of framed photographs at Amelia’s friendly face, picturing her as she’d looked when she was a young girl clinging to her mother’s skirt. Amelia hadn’t changed much really, only become a little thinner and grayer is all. “Speaking of youth,” Amelia continued. “I talked with your mother. Why didn’t you tell me they knew nothing about this?” Eden sighed. It’d been two days since Austin had spoken with her brother, and on the second one, her mom had called, asking about the new job. Apparently, the grapevine had spoken, so there went her week’s delay. Her parents had taken it amazingly well though, despite the circumstances, but expressed the same concern as everyone else, that she wouldn’t be able to keep control of her students because of her looks. Eden let the thought go. If she continued to dwell on it, she’d turn sour. “As I’ve told everyone else, I was afraid of what they’d say. Adam’s reaction was bad enough.”

“I heard about that from Mr. Lowell.” Eden started, and Amelia held up her hand. “Not details, so don’t look at me like that. He’s not calling me to spill the beans. He only said Adam gave you a hard time, and he’d intervened.” But why had he said anything at all? He should know how she felt about that. “Stop,” Amelia said. “Austin’s the best man I know. I asked how things were with you, and he answered. Don’t tell me you’d expect any less of him.” No, she wouldn’t. Austin struck her as incredibly honest at all times. “Anyhow, I’m sorry if you’ve had any problems at home over this, but I’m glad to know any troubles have been worked out. None of that’s my reason for calling you in here anyway. I wanted to speak with you about leading our cheerleaders.” Cheerleaders. The word punched Eden in the chest squeezing the air from her lungs. “You are infinitely qualified,” Amelia continued, seemingly oblivious to Eden’s discomfort. “Mrs. Breathwaite led them last year, but she has a new baby and doesn’t want to take the time after school. You have such experience.” Amelia gave her a generous smile, then her brow furrowed. “Are you all right?” Not all right. Eden wiped damp palms on the legs of her dress pants. But she couldn’t say why. No, telling why was impossible because it required too much. Too much truth. “I’m fine,” she said at last. “I just hadn’t thought ... you know, it’s been a while.” And should stay that way. In the past where it belonged. But there was no explaining that. Amelia hesitated then, her eyes roaming back and forth over Eden’s face. She appeared to move on. “Jitters. I understand, and high school girls are very different from what you’re used to. But please say you’ll do it. We could really use your help. Besides ...” She lowered her voice. “It’ll give you more time with Mr. Lowell. He is the football coach.”

Austin was a bribe now? An effective one. Because time with him was something she wanted more of. However, words of acceptance stuck in her throat, and she struggled to push them off her tongue, finally mumbling a faltering I will and making her escape. But all the way up the stairs, her heart pounded, and pulse raced, and she collapsed in her desk chair, her head propped in shaking hands. This couldn’t be happening. She’d come here to escape all that, to put it behind her and start over with people who didn’t know in a town that wouldn’t care, yet here she was facing those same demons all over again. “It follows me,” she whispered. Was there no escape? A knock at the door jolted her, and she threw a hand against her throat. “Hey, didn’t mean to scare you. You okay?” Austin Lowell was such a wonderful sight. She lowered her hand to her lap and inhaled. If only she could be as settled alone as she was when he was around. “I’m fine.” “You sure? You seem rattled.” He approached the desk, hovering over top. “You are rattled.” She gave an artificial smile. “I’m beginning to think you have telepathic powers.” He smiled. “No telepathy, but I do have eyes in my head. What’s bugging you?” She leaned back in her chair. “Nothing, now that you’re here.” “You’re sure? Because whatever it is ...” She contemplated him for a moment, the tight stretch of his shirt over his chest, the flex of his sleeves, the shock of hair that fell between his eyes. He was such a handsome man. “I’m sure,” she said at last. “Nothing a little time and thought can’t fix.”

But she lied. Nothing would make this go away, nor could any power of Austin’s fix it. The best she could hope for was reassurance he’d be nearby. Her savior, of sorts. His brown eyes gazed into hers, and for a moment, she fell into them. Who would have thought she’d travel all these miles and find the stability she sought with the history teacher? Now, if she could only somehow encapsulate that and save it.

CHAPTER 5 Austin stared at Eden and asked himself why she acted so cagey. It made him feel a little underhanded to think that way about her, but every line of her face, the light in her eyes, and the gentle tic of a muscle in her cheek said she was lying. Ten years of teaching school had taught him that. She wasn’t good at lying anyway, only too habituated to doing it, which made him ask why. Why would she need to lie so much? It had to be related to her addiction, but short of coming right out and accusing her of something, he’d have to let it go. As beautiful as she was, she struggled with innumerable things, and that made his feelings for her complicated. That he even had feelings this early in the game bothered him more than a little. He’d never dated any woman seriously, past overnighters, and having given that up, didn’t know how to approach this. They worked together, which made things even more difficult; Eden was a bit dependent-minded, leaning on him for more than he’d thought she would; add to that her immaturity, and he found himself holding back. He left her room and wandered out into the hall. In some ways, she’d have to sink or swim. He couldn’t continue to go over there three and four times a day because come Monday he’d have his own classes to deal with. Though he had made a promise to her brother, one he planned to keep. He entered his classroom and settled behind his desk, for a few hours doing paperwork and other mind-numbing activities. Then the intercom in his room buzzed. “Mr. Lowell?” “Yes, Mrs. Fischer?” “Need to speak with you. Can you come down?” “Be there in a few,” he said. Shuffling the stack of papers in his hand, he placed them in a folder and left the room.

The main office was empty, so he automatically turned toward Amelia’s desk and found her seated, her fingers tented before her, and a theological look in her eye. “Please, close the door,” she said. “What is your impression of Ms. Riske?” He flinched a bit at her question, squirming and rubbing the back of his neck. “Well ...” She smiled softly. “Not personally. I’m looking for an overall impression. You see, I’ve done some digging, and some things have come to light that concern me.” Digging? Why would she need to dig at this late date? “I was wondering if you had any concerns.” “I ... I’m a bit uncomfortable to say,” he said at last. “I’ve picked up on some things, but ...” She laid her hands flat on her desk. “Let me help you out then and you can indicate yes or no.” He inclined his head. “Okay.” “Do you think she’s had a problem similar to what you struggled with?” The question flashed before him, and he curled his hand into a fist. “Similar,” he said. “But she hasn’t told me that.” Amelia nodded. “I understand.” “Why do you need to know? Can I ask that?” She leaned back in her chair. “There’s a time gap in her work history, which she was required to fill out for the job. She lists her schooling, her modeling, and then there’s about six months where she essentially fell off the map. Her mother’s an old friend, as I’ve said, and I spoke with her yesterday, just in a general conversation, but prying a bit. She’s completely in the dark, as is her brother I’m willing to bet.”

“I’d agree,” Austin said. “He had no idea about her job and was more than a little angry, but I told you that.” “You did.” “So what leads you to think it was addiction, and why does that matter now?” Amelia shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, not to me, but I’d hate for it to affect her job performance or for some parent to get hold of it. I can’t protect her in such a case. She’s here to teach health, so that’s what she has to do. As to what leads me to think that, her behavior, especially this morning.” Austin sucked in a breath, the sound crisp in the room, and Amelia focused her penetrating gaze on his face. “So you noticed.” He made no comment, not denying her words, but not agreeing to them either. She sighed and sat forward. “I asked her to lead the cheerleaders, and she all but fell apart.” He rolled that over in his thinking. Amelia had told him she was going to ask; after all, Eden was qualified. But why would that question upset Eden? “Did she refuse?” he asked. “No. But she practically ran from the room.” He leaned on one hip. “I don’t understand. Why are telling me all this? I have to be honest. This is making me more and more uncomfortable. Eden is ...” Amelia’s smile widened at his use of Eden’s first name. So okay, he’d called her that and not Ms. Riske. Amelia was toying with him again. “Look,” he replied. “I’ll keep an eye on her. I said I would. But I won’t talk behind her back. Whether that’s my personal feelings coming into it or the concern of a friend, I won’t say. Maybe I don’t even know. But in either case, it seems dirty.” “Austin, I’m not trying to upset you.”

He uncurled his fingers and steadied his breathing. “My addiction is an open book,” he said. “I’ve lived it that way, so I’ve revealed it that way. Whatever her problem was, however, and I do believe it’s in the past, she doesn’t want it spoken about. Therefore, I’m not going to ask. She’s a beautiful woman with a kind heart who simply needs a little to work through whatever is going on. Please, don’t ask me to say any more than that.” Amelia stared at him for a moment then stood to her feet. “Very well. I’m going to suggest Joan Bisbee help her on the squad. I think I can convince Joan to do it, and it’ll relieve Ms. Riske of some of the mental burden.” Austin turned toward the door, but before he opened it, he paused. “Because you’re wondering,” he said. “Yes, I’m going to ask her out. I just haven’t figured out when.” Amelia smiled. “I knew you would. I’m happy for you.” He made no remark and left.

How and when to ask Eden on a date was taken completely out of Austin’s hands Friday afternoon. He exited the building, nothing on his mind past the evening meal and a few hours of TV, and ran into her outside the front entrance. The heat from the parking lot radiated off the sun-warmed metal doors. She flashed a tantalizing smile. “You’re off?” He gave a brief nod. “Our last weekend free.” She flicked her hair off her neck, and he tried not to stare. Her next question solved that problem. “About that, weren’t you going to ask me about Saturday?” He blinked twice. “Saturday?” “Yes, me and you.” He couldn’t help but smile. Eden could be a flirt at times. “You haven’t seen enough of me?” And he hadn’t seen enough of her. She was amazing to look at. “I thought maybe ...” She smiled wider and tossed her head, an action that, once again, distracted him. “I thought maybe you’d ask me out. Like you said ... the whole last-free-weekend thing.” Clever. He had said that. He slouched on one hip, feeling a bead of sweat crawl down the back of his shirt. “I’ll just stand here and wait,” she said. She folded her hands together at her waist and poised. He laughed. “Eden, would you go to dinner with me Saturday?” “Dinner?” She made a face. “I was thinking lunch and then we could waste the rest of the day together.” “Got it all planned out, do you?” She tilted her head. “Only if ... if you want.” Her coyness returned. Austin crossed his arm over his chest and contemplated the change. It was part of her allure really — that one minute she could be so candid and the next almost

bashful. “Okay,” he said. Not like he’d ever say no. “R-really?” She slightly stuttered the words. He tilted his head. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” “Well, yes, but ...” “I’m going to the gym in the morning,” he continued. “I’ll pick you up at say, eleven?” She dipped her head a bit. “Sounds good.” He walked her to her car then moved to his own. Once seated, however, his unsettled thoughts began to churn. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. No female had ever obsessed him like this. Obsession. That’s what scared him the most. Because he recognized this feeling, this out-of-control, life-on-the-edge feeling that made him act differently from how he normally would. It was the same one that caused him to clutch the bottle, drinking again and again. All the while thinking he had it contained, only he didn’t. He was fooling himself instead. One sip was never enough. Just a little bit. I can handle it. Just one more swallow, and I’ll stop. But he didn’t and eventually nothing was left but pieces of himself. Pieces and a lot of swill to mop up. He reached for his cell phone and called up a number. It’d been a while since he’d talked to her; he shouldn’t go so long, and he shouldn’t wait until he was desperate to do so. He pressed dial. The line rang once ... twice ... before she picked up. “Hello? Austin?” “Hi, Mom.” “It’s been, what? Two weeks?”

Two weeks. Yes. “Sorry, I’ve been meaning to call, but work and all ...” “Uh oh. Who is she?” Chagrined, he pulled the phone away for a second. She always read him well. He returned the phone to his ear. “Her name is Eden, and I’m ...” “Bad, huh?” “The worst, and I keep thinking it’s not any different from the drinking. I overdid that as well, and she’d be so easy to overdo.” His mom didn’t speak, and he could see her in his mind’s eye. She’d be smiling, happy he was attracted to anyone at all, happier still he’d called her about it. “A woman’s not the same as a drink. Given what you’ve been through, I can see why you feel that way, and I guess it is possible to lose control. But I think you’re stronger than that. You have to trust yourself.” But he didn’t trust himself. That was the problem. Eden had invited herself into his life from day one, and he’d been swimming after her ever since. “What if ... what if I mess up?” he asked. “What if, instead, your biggest mistake is letting her get away? Ask yourself that. Then ask what you want out of the relationship. If she cares for you, she’ll listen.” What did he want? Not fly-by-night. He’d done that already. Permanent. He wanted permanent, someone to stand by his side through thick and thin. But Eden, she was ... was ... not what he’d pick for himself. Beautiful, yes, and tantalizing and inviting. And clueless. “She’s younger than me,” he said. “Ten years.” “That’s not so much in the long run, but in maturity sometimes it is. Is that your hesitation?”

“Some,” he replied. “And this feeling I’m going off the deep end.” She laughed. “Oh, son, to hear you this confused over a girl does my heart good.” He ran one hand through his hair. “I’m glad it does one of us.” “Pick your pace,” she said, her voice growing serious again. “And walk it out one step at a time. I think you’ll be fine. You’ve learned from your mistakes, and where you were weak, you’re actually pretty strong.” He hung up the phone with a promise to call in a day or so and turned his attention to the road. Hopefully, she was right because tomorrow he’d find out for sure. An entire Saturday with Eden Riske would either make him or break him, and if it broke him, then this promised to be a long year. For that matter, if he survived it, it’d be a long year. And they hadn’t even had the first day yet.

Eden pulled out of the school lot onto the main road her heart doing a strange pitter-patter. It had worked. He’d agreed to Saturday’s date. She hadn’t been sure if he’d mind her asking. He was so reserved by nature. And if he’d said no, she would have kicked herself because more than anything, for this one weekend, she wanted to relax and enjoy life, and that meant spending one day with Austin Lowell. She bit her lip, overwhelmed by her thoughts. The ring of her cell phone from the bottom of her purse shook her awake. Digging one-handed through the items inside, she tucked it to her ear. “Hello?” “Ms. Riske.” Amelia’s voice came through the speaker. “I apologize for calling you after hours on a Friday. I tried to catch you before you left but got captured myself.” Eden’s unrest returned, and she wrapped sweaty palms around the steering wheel for . “I understand.” “It isn’t any huge deal except I needed to let you know that Joan Bisbee will be assisting you with the squad. She’s familiar with what the girls did last year and knows their faces. Plus, I felt badly about throwing it at you so last-minute, considering practice starts next week.” Eden released her breath, a sense of relief flooding her. Help was good. Someone familiar was good. “I appreciate it,” she said. “Truthfully, I was a bit worried.” Amelia chuckled. “I noticed that. So relax and let go of it for now. I gave Joan your number. She’ll be calling you sometime between now and Monday.” “Thanks.” Amelia disconnected, and Eden tossed her phone in the cup holder. However, no sooner had it landed there than it rang again. This time she noted the caller. Mom. “Hey, Mom,” she said. “Daughter, I wanted to see how you were doing today.” Though her mom had

worked very hard to learn to speak English clearly, her accent remained. “I’m fine.” A canned answer, and her mom knew it. “I worry,” her mom continued. “This thing you’re doing ... teaching boys.” “Not only boys,” Eden said. “Girls, too. Students.” She corrected her mother. “Please, don’t worry. I’m going to be fine. Austin ...” Her mother interrupted. “I hear about this man. Adam says he’s very strong.” Eden’s cheeks heated, and she laid a palm flat to her face. “He’s very kind.” “I would like to meet him. Your father and I are coming to town next weekend. You set it up.” Meet Austin? Eden’s insides gripped. Would he even agree to that? It was so soon, and after tomorrow— “Mom, I don’t know,” she began. Her doubts arose. “What is there not to know?” her mom asked. “You like him, yes?” “Yes, but ...” “Then you tell him, dinner next Saturday.” She hadn’t any choice but to agree. Her mom would never let it go. She settled for a half-hearted, “I’ll do my best,” then disconnected, returning the phone to the tray for the second time. Her head throbbed at her mother’s request. That’s all she needed to deal with on top of her nervousness about tomorrow ... her mom’s demands. Much as she loved her, she’d never grasped certain facets of American etiquette. Eden sighed and her stomach fluttered. Saturday. An entire day with Austin Lowell. She couldn’t wait and hoped maybe ... just maybe ... it would lead to good things.

The pop tune pealing from the radio mirrored Austin’s thoughts. It was all about uncertainty, and he knew how that felt. Even as comfortable as he and Eden had gotten with each other, this marked some sort of change in their relationship from what it’d been in the past week. He blew out his frustration in a puff of air and cranked up the radio in an attempt to occupy his mind. But sight of her brother’s house halfway down the street brought it all back, and anxiety wreathed him. When had he lost his confidence with women? He’d brought home plenty in the past and entertained them in fine style. But with only one thing in mind, and that was the difference. This was more than an evening’s diversion, more than a casual tryst. This required the very commitment he’d already said he wasn’t ready for. He gathered his wits on the walk to the door, determined not to look inept. However, Eden standing in the opening shoved the air from his lungs. She had the most amazing set of legs. Long and slender, framed by a pair of white shorts, which enhanced her fantastic curves. He took a breath. He had to regain some control of himself. He glanced back toward the car. “You ready?” “Let me get my purse,” she said. Spinning on one heel, she treated him to a nice view of her backside. A tingle started in the middle of his chest and spread outwards to his fingertips. He curled his hands into a ball, willing the sensation to subside. Eden reemerged, and he escorted her to the car. “It’s clean,” she said, buckling her seat belt. Austin managed a faltering smile. “I knew you were coming, so I made the effort.” This was true, though more last minute than it sounded. He concentrated, for the moment, on backing out of the drive. The road curved northwest toward downtown. Eden’s gaze bore hard on him.

“You’re nervous,” she said. He glanced at her. She’d said he was perceptive. Well, so was she. “Austin, if this is a bad idea ...” she began. “Confession?” She dipped her head. “If you want.” “I was going to ask you out.” Her face cleared somewhat. “You were?” “Yes, but it’s been so long since I’ve gone on an actual date. I it to some hesitation. However, it had nothing to do with you.” Eden’s gentle smile washed over him. “My confession this time,” she said. “I haven’t dated. At all.” Coming to a halt at the stop light, he angled himself to better see her. “Never?” “Never,” she looked away. “Having a pretty face left me alone a lot. I only say that to make a point, not because I stand around looking in the mirror. When the whole modeling thing happened, it wasn’t about dating anymore. I became a commodity. Buy and sell.” The flick of the light to green brought his head back forward. “That why you got out?” he asked. He was pushing his luck with that question. But he couldn’t entirely avoid the subject, or she’d think he was doing just that, avoiding it. She didn’t speak right away, and the sounds of the surrounding traffic filled the cab. A middle-aged man in a blue pickup blew his horn at the elderly driver in front of him. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask,” he said at last. She hesitated only a second. “No, I should tell you. I’ve told you everything else. Or you’ve guessed.”

“Really, it’s okay.” He forestalled her. No need for her to feel uncomfortable or him to know really. However, she waved him off. “Can we go somewhere? The park, maybe?” “Sure.” He circled the wheel, taking a tree-lined side street leading more southeast. It took only fifteen minutes to reach the park. He pulled into the heavily shaded lot and moved around the side of the car to open her door. She stood to her feet and hooked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Can we walk?” Taking an easy pace, he chose a path winding beneath a wooded area speckled with fallen leaves and waited for her to talk. “You have to understand,” she said, after they’d walked quite a ways. “I’ve not told anyone what I’m telling you, and I’m telling you not because you asked, but because I trust you. I’ve found that to be a rare thing.” He looked across at her and met her gaze. Her bottom lip trembled, and she stilled it by nibbling on it. “I appreciate that more than you ever know. My family loves me, but they wouldn’t sit long enough to hear me out to the end.” She pulled up short and released his arm. “Initially, things were great. Oh, I knew what went on behind the scenes, but I wasn’t involved in it so there was no harm. It wasn’t long though before it became very evident what I’d have to do. I was given ... offers.” “Offers?” “All those things you’d think a girl modeling would get. Take my top off. And the rest.” The tingle in Austin’s fingertips returned, and his thoughts split two-fold. That anyone would ask her to do that was unbelievable. Yet looking at her, how could they not?

“You’re not going to ask?” she said. “It’s not my job to ask,” he replied. “I’m here to listen.” She smiled and glanced downward, scrubbing her toe across the soiled pavement. “I didn’t. I got out of doing that actually, with the help of the others. But the pressure didn’t leave, and things got very difficult for me the more time went on. I was at the point of trying to decide what to do, you know, keep going or not, when the agency hired a new photographer. He was young, outgoing, and the latest fad. He was also full of himself.” Eden looked up and her next words struck him hard in the chest. “He said I either slept with him or I was finished.”

CHAPTER 6 Austin swallowed the knot in his throat and tried to appear calm, but Eden’s confession was tough to face. He didn’t blame her for keeping it to herself for so long. Yet here she was, sharing it with him, a relative newcomer in her life. Maybe that was the appeal, that he had no connections to any of it. “So I left,” she continued. “I’m glad now. None of that is worth sacrificing what ... what I feel for you.” She leaned in, and the warmth of her breath kissed his cheeks. It sucked at him, licking across his face and down his neck. She raised her chin and parted her lips. Kiss me. That’s what she wanted, and the thought newly planted in his brain drew his head down and his mouth to within a brush of hers. However, he backed a step. “Wait.” Her expression changed, uncertain, disappointed. “No, don’t think that,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. But I ...” “Forget it,” she said. “I shouldn’t expect anything.” She made to move ahead on the path, but he grasped her by the arm. “Eden, don’t.” He turned her around and brought her close, pulling her to his chest. “Not since my addiction can I being this ... cautious about anything. I simply want to get it right.” She pulled back a couple inches and gazed up at him. He brought one hand to her cheek. “One thing I do know, I’m not like that photographer. You’re a beautiful, valuable woman, worth respect.” “But?” “But this thought, if I move too fast, I’ll blow it, dogs me.” He laughed softly. “Childish.”

Eden didn’t respond, but relaxed and rested her cheek on his shoulder. He could get used to holding her like this. “Austin? Make me one promise.” He cleared his throat. “Only one?” She raised her head again and smiled. “Mmm. Just one.” “And if I say okay how deep’s it going to get me?” “Pretty deep.” He returned her smile with one of his own. “Okay. In for a penny, in for a pound.” “Kiss me before you take me home. I have to know.” “To know?” he asked. “If I’ll feel that same rush again.”

Austin’s expression at her words said a number of things. Desire. He’d wanted to kiss her. He’d almost done so minutes ago, and the heady surge that had swept over her had almost blinded her. Also, reticence. He was thinking it out, maintaining some restraint. He didn’t speak, so she lowered her face, laying her cheek against the thickness of his shoulder. He cleared his throat and the sound rumbled in her ear. “You want me to kiss you,” he said. “Yes. Is it silly of me to ask?” She breathed in the faint scent of soap and cologne emanating from the solidity of his chest and wrapped an arm around his waist. He tightened his grip on her. “No more than my desire to do it.” She detached herself, putting some distance between them. “I’ll take that for a maybe.” She smiled in speaking. “We have all day, after all.” It was best to move on, lighten the mood. She took a few steps, careful to not appear as if she was trying to escape, and continued their walk. He fell in alongside, and at first, neither one spoke. But after about ten minutes of silence, her thoughts changed, and a certain amount of guilt entered. She’d only told him part of the truth about her past and tailored much of it. That wasn’t fair. If she was expecting more from their relationship, then secrets were not a good foundation. He deserved to know. Not like he probably didn’t already. He was very observant where she was concerned and had come close to guessing already. She slowed her walk at sight of an iron bench beside the trail. “Can we sit?” she asked. “I have something else to say.” He looked at her curiously but made no remark. “I didn’t tell you all of it,” she said, her voice faltering. She squirmed on the bench. “After I left modeling, I decided to concentrate on my schooling and get my degree, and I was well on my way to completing when ...” The memory rushed up at her, the cheers, the lift, and the slip of her feet. She

wadded her hands into fists, her nails biting into her palms. “Hey.” He lifted one and uncurled it, flattening it over his own. “It’s all right. Whatever it is, you survived.” She worked her fingers through his. “I fell,” she said softly. “Landed flat on my back, broke two vertebrae. The pain was excruciating.” The rest of the story was written on his face. He knew, but he’d known all along without her ever saying it. “Pills,” she said. “An endless parade of painkillers that I couldn’t get off of or away from, and I got desperate, selling whatever I had and buying from other students until I’d spiraled out of control and was failing my classes.” “But you’re here,” he said. “And you ed.” She shivered and rubbed her free hand along her opposite arm. “It was a long road, one I’m embarrassed about. One I was determined to hide, but I can’t ... not from you, not when I really want whatever this is that we have.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, his mouth warm and moist. “Your secret’s safe with me, and I don’t hold it against you. Like you said, I’ve been there, and yeah, I guessed. Is that what worried you about leading the cheerleaders?” She nodded. “Terrified. Amelia called, said some woman named Joan is going to help me. I’m glad.” “Joan’s dependable,” he said. “You’ll like her.” “And I ... I have you.” He crooked a smile. “And you have me.” “You promise?” she asked. It was a childlike question, one that reminded him of all that was at stake. His smile softened, and he tightened their clasped hands. “I promise. As to ‘whatever this is,’ I like to think something can come of it. No, more than that. I

want something to come of it. Something real.” She ducked her head, but he lifted it with his free hand. “Don’t ever be afraid of me,” he said. “Or afraid to tell me things. As to your request earlier, let’s see where today goes, and I’ll keep it in my thinking. Okay?” “Okay.” She whispered the word. He stood to his feet, not releasing her hand. “Why don’t we make our way back to the car? It’s pushing noon, and I’m hungry.” She rose and moved beside him back down the path.

“Not the best table,” Austin said to the back of her head. Eden returned her gaze forward from contemplation of the crowded restaurant and raised a cloth napkin to her lips. “No, but I hear the food is good.” A waitress stopped by, leaving glasses of water and a basket of bread before disappearing into the recesses of the kitchen. Her doubts niggled at her. Austin was so accepting of all she’d said, but maybe he only felt sorry for her. He hadn’t kissed her, though he’d said he wanted to, maybe knowing her problem would hold him back further. He took a sip from his glass. “I was thinking,” he said. “Since this is an all-day date, we should have supper at my place tonight. I believe I have the ingredients for spaghetti, if you don’t mind a little bachelor cooking.” Her cheeks warmed, and she dipped her head. She wouldn’t mind anything he did. “I’d love to spend time at your place.” Where it was more intimate. She kept this thought to herself and tore off a bit of bread. She’d talk about him instead. “Tell me more about Austin Lowell,” she said. “You’ve met my brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law, and you saw photos of my parents. But I don’t know anything about your family.” He settled his glass on the table. “I have one brother, younger, married with two kids. He, my parents, and everyone I grew up with are in Texas.” One eyebrow rose. “Austin?” He laughed. “No, actually, Spoon Creek.” Her brow wrinkled. “Never heard of it.” “You wouldn’t have.” This brought a smile to her face. “And you came to Florida on a whim?” He nodded. “For the job and to get away from being under their thumb. I miss them now that I’m older, but my life is here.”

“They visit?” She asked the question, her mother’s impertinent request suddenly pressing hard on her mind. “My parents come once or twice a year. My brother less than that. It’s hard to with kids, you know.” She took another bite, chewing slowly. Though she hadn’t planned to ask, now might be the best time. “I have something ... well, uncomfortable to ask you, and I’d said I wasn’t going to, not today, but we’re talking about family, so ...” He gazed across at her, one arm curved across the tabletop, the other in his lap. “I keep putting you in strange situations, and I feel guilty,” she said. Austin ran a finger down the edge of his glass, drops of moisture beading on the tip. “Why don’t you tell me what it is and let me judge how strange it might be?” Eden swallowed and set the remains of the bread down on her plate. “After I talked to Amelia yesterday, my mom called. Apparently, she’s been talking to someone, Adam or Amelia, one, and heard about you.” “Uh oh,” he said. She winced, but then saw he was smiling. She tried to look suitably apologetic. “It’s exactly what you’re thinking. Mom never quite understood how some American things work. In her mind, it’s as it was when she was a girl. Forget my age or yours and society’s new rules.” She sighed. “She’s coming next weekend and wants to meet you.” His smile never faltered. “I think I can manage that.” “But you shouldn’t have to. I mean, we’re not ...” “Not what?” He was staring at her intense, now, and she wiggled a bit in her seat. “Serious.” He stretched his hand across the table and lifted her fingers into his. “I’m very

serious. That’s why I’m being so careful.” She outlined every contour of his face, the square set of his jaw, the sweep of his forehead, and descended into the depth of his gaze. Her doubts earlier receded. Nothing about this day was going as she’d thought. She’d never planned on telling him everything; she’d not planned on mentioning her mother’s request. “I came here to start over,” she said. “And forget.” Austin caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “But every time I’m around you, I feel so transparent, and it all comes back. Maybe ... maybe I needed someone like that. I don’t know. What bothers me is how I can’t bring myself to tell my family, yet I’ve told you.” That seemed wrong. She’d never been upfront with them, didn’t actually know what they did or didn’t realize about that time in her life. “You’re my ... what’s the word?” “Sponsor? You didn’t have one?” She shook her head. “I put myself in a clinic, ed with flying colors, and walked out as alone as walking in.” “You’re not alone now,” he said. “And I hope not relegating me to sponsorship.” Eden’s voice fell quiet. “No.” “Good. Because I want more than that.” At sight of the waitress wending their way, Austin released her hand, and she buried it back in her lap. Their conversation turned to more trivial things while they ate, and the subject seemed to die. They finished their meal and left, running a couple errands he had on his list and one she had on hers. They ended up at three o’clock in the middle of the mall, seated on a bench in the corridor. A multitude of people, young and old, wended past. “There was a huge shopping center I used to go to in my spare time,” she said. “It was an interesting place to observe behavior. Take that couple.” She nodded

her head toward a boy and a girl, perhaps nineteen, strolling by. “She’s mad at him.” “How you figure?” he asked. “Her hands. She’s holding onto her arm like that to prevent holding his hand, and he’s swinging his hand because he wants her to hold it.” Austin took her hand at that and folded it into his. “Like this?” She glanced at him. “Like that.” “What else? What about them?” His gaze moved to an elderly couple scooching along the shiny tile. “They don’t have to hold hands,” she said. “They know they love each other with only a glance.” “That’s ideal. Isn’t it?” he asked. “The kind of love that comes with time spent together.” Yes, ideal. And rare. Yet people strove for it all the time, herself included. Isn’t it what she wanted from this? To believe she’d found someone she could rely on, someone who loved her despite all she’d been through. “You know, all that’s happened to me in the last couple years has made me skeptical. I met so many people whose word only extended as far as their slimy handshake until I it I gave up thinking there were any that were different. But coming home reminded me I was wrong. Adam, for one, is the best brother, and Staci, like a sister to me. My parents have been married for however many years, and Amelia has stayed their friend all this time. I guess I was jaded.” “And me?” he asked. She faced him, aware their hands were still interconnected. “You, Austin Lowell, are a priceless man who I owe a great deal and something I never thought I’d find.” He smiled. “What did you find?”

“Acceptance. Affirmation. Authenticity. You are what you say you are, and you can’t know how I appreciate that.” “You talk about your doubts,” he said. “I have my own.” He spoke candid, friendly, giving no impression he was upset. “What kind of doubts?” “That I know what I’m doing for one.” A boisterous group of teens approached from a side corridor, laughing and joshing with each other. Austin’s head swiveled and his gaze turned sharp. They walked within speaking distance, and one of them, a box-shaped boy with a buzz cut, peeled away from the others. “Hey, Coach.” A certain nervousness wiggled up Eden’s spine, but she held steady, noting Austin had not released her hand. “Everett.” The boy switched his gaze to her face, and the look that settled there was like so many others, appraisal, bordering on obscene. The other teens in the group spilled around him; there were about eight. “Who’s this?” the boy asked. “You have a girlfriend?” Austin made no effort to change his handhold. “This is Miss Riske. She teaches health-ed at the school.” The boy’s facial expression only became worse. “Health, huh?” And she saw it poised there on the tip of his tongue, the remark he wanted to make. But he flicked a glance at Austin and reconsidered. “I’ll bet she’s good at that,” he said instead. Her stomach knotted into a ball. “Have a good afternoon,” Austin replied.

The boy shook his head and laughed, then snaked an arm around the waist of a petite blonde with an extremely short skirt. He turned his back and ambled away. Eden exhaled. Austin pulled her to him. “Forget it,” he said, soft in her ear. She nodded. But fear crept in. That was one boy in a school with hundreds of boys. Maybe her family was right. Maybe she wasn’t as prepared as she thought. One thing was certain though, come Monday morning, she’d find out exactly how inept she really was. Austin’s arm around her back held her upright. He was the only reason that boy hadn’t said what he wanted to, the only reason he’d walked away. Suddenly, she was really glad his classroom was right across the hall. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Go somewhere more private.” “Private?” she asked. He smiled. “This is a date. Isn’t it? Well, I’m thinking we could stand some time alone.” And heat spread from his hand along her arm to her spine.

Austin stuck the key in the lock and cast a glance at Eden standing just behind. “It isn’t much,” he said. “But it’s home.” He brought his gaze forward, opening the door to a rush of chilled air. He encouraged her to enter first. She paused in the foyer, looking around the small space. He’d done his best to decorate it when he’d first moved here, thinking the entire time of what his mother would say if it looked too “male.” She’d tweaked it some in her visits, adding a vase of flowers on the side table at the entrance, a picture on the wall. He pointed Eden through an adjacent doorway into the living space. This was the area that had caused him to buy the house. An open kitchen spilled into a comfortable den set with a fireplace and a large set of bookshelves. On the far wall was a set of glass doors displaying the screened-in pool area. “It’s lovely,” Eden said. “You decorated it?” “Mostly.” This brought him a certain look. He grinned. “My mom helped. She’s a bit of an artist.” “An artist? She paints?” He nodded. “Yes. The paintings are hers.” She was forever painting, mostly beach scenes, and her love for sand and surf had spread to his walls, the furniture, and out to the pool deck. “It’s like always being on vacation,” he said. She smiled at that. “I wouldn’t have figured you for this.” “Oh? What would you have figured?” He waved her to a seat. She settled herself on the couch, crossing her legs. She had great legs. He stared for a moment. “Something more bachelory,” Eden replied.

More bachelor, like him. Austin stuffed down his apprehension. He needed to stop waffling over how far he wanted this to go and take the steps. She’d shared her past with him, and that had taken a lot on her part. Then he’d had the nerve to turn her kiss down when the truth was, he’d wanted to do that very thing. Suck it up, Austin and live a little. That’s what his brother, Denver, would say. His brother had always been the more outgoing of the two of them. Where he tended to think things through, Denver always was willing to try them out first. And he wanted this, wanted a relationship with her, wanted to kiss her until his mind blanked, and was fast on the way to doing so. His recent abstinence was no reason to stop being a man. “Well, I would have gone for something more brown-and-black, except I knew what my mother would say.” Eden laughed. “I’d like to meet your mother.” “She’d like to meet you.” This changed Eden’s expression. “We talked,” he offered in explanation. “About me?” She didn’t seem offended by that. He bobbed his head. “Yes, I had questions, and she gave advice.” “And what did she say?” She was feeling it out now, wondering exactly what he would or wouldn’t do. Okay, he’d given her the impression he was timid, but he’d never been that way before ... before becoming an alcoholic. “My alcoholism changed my thinking on a lot of things,” he said. “I saw for the first time my tendency to overdo things, and I was worried, frankly, that this wasn’t any different. No reflection on you, but instead, on my own behavior. I told her that, and actually, she laughed at me. She said to trust myself and I’d find I was stronger than I thought.”

“You had doubts about your strength? Because I saw it today ... at the mall.” Everett Jenkins. She had to have seen that kind of behavior before. She’d said as much. But how far had she applied it to the rest of the school? “He’s on the team,” Austin said. “He and I have hashed out the authority thing before.” As recently as three weeks ago. “And the other part? The ‘tendency to overdo things?’” Austin paused. “You mean do I still believe that?” She nodded. “About me.” A test. That’s what this was, to see if he was still considering all that had happened to them so far. Fine, he’d prove it. He stood to his feet and taking her hand, drew her up. “I’ve made a decision right now.” He laid a hand on her cheek. “What’s that?” She spoke quietly, reserved. “To not walk away from the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I may be uncertain about a lot of things and cautious at times, but I’m no fool. I know when to set my hesitation aside and hang onto something good.” “Something good?” she whispered. “You, Eden, are something good, and I have no embarrassment about that.” None at all. In that instant, his decision was made. She’d asked for a kiss; she wanted to know what would happen. So did he, and before this night was over, he intended to find out.

CHAPTER 7 “Spaghetti’s in the pantry.” Austin nodded left, and Eden turned, opening the long cabinet door and searching amongst the scattered items. She pushed aside several cans and reached for the box. Going in someone’s pantry was so personal, similar to digging in their closet or opening a dresser drawer. At least in her thinking it was. Austin didn’t seem bothered at all, however. Instead, he stirred the sauce. The fact he knew how to make sauce from scratch was impressive. She’d figured him, again, for the jar type. Weren’t all guys? Adam was. If he could extract it from some sort of container, he was satisfied. She set the box on the counter and waited for her next instruction. Unfortunately, she was exactly like her brother with not a clue how to cook anything past “eight minutes on high” in the microwave, and that included boiling pasta. Austin released the spoon in the bubbling sauce and reached for a large cook pot. Filling it with water, he shifted it to the stove and turned the burner on. She made to step back, give him space for cooking, but they collided, the spoon from the sauce catching on his elbow and hurling upwards, a large blob landing on his chest. Bending over at the waist, he hissed between clenched teeth and peeled his steaming shirt away from his skin. Eden raised her hands in front of her, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I thought ... Are you hurt?” She changed her remark. He glanced at her with a smile beneath the shock of hair fallen over his eyes. “Warm, but alive.” He wadded up his shirt in his fist. The glimpse of his naked chest froze her in place. His was the finest example of an athletic man’s she’d ever seen. Powerful pecs contoured down to a trim waist and well-cut abdominals. He’d obviously worked long and hard to get that way and been very successful. She extended a hand, unthinking, and hovered it over his flesh, the heat from his

skin rippling up her arm to her face. He stared at her, unmoving, then broke her trance-like state. “Food’s gonna burn if we keep standing here. Why don’t you set the table, and I’ll find a clean shirt.” He turned his back and disappeared from the room. She obeyed, taking plates from the counter where he’d set them and placing them on the table with napkins and silverware. However, the image of his gorgeous flesh burned in her retinas. He returned and made no comment, either on the accident or her reaction. Yet all through the meal and during the clean-up afterward, she couldn’t shake it. Seated by the pool, she simply had to ask. “Can I see it again?” His eyebrows knit together. “See what?” Okay, that’d come out of nowhere. Whatever he’d been thinking about, the spill earlier was not it. She turned diagonal in the Adirondack chair, the wooden arm rest digging into her back. “Your chest.” His gaze turned sharp. “I don’t think ...” She held up a hand, palm outward. “Let’s pretend I’m not a very interested female and limit me to a health teacher. I have to teach this stuff and you ... you ... It’s like looking at a textbook.” It was. A very finely made textbook image. Only he was real and right here. His mouth formed that silly grin he wore when he was amused. “So I’m an example?” “Y-yes, an example.” Her boldness faltered some. “And you’re not asking because we’re interested in each other at all?” She inhaled. “No.” A half-truth. “Because if that’s your reason,” he continued. “I don’t think we’ve reached such

a personal point in our relationship. However, since you’re simply a health teacher. That’s better.” A giggle burst from her lips, unasked, and she covered her mouth with her fingers. She swallowed her laughter. He was teasing. The light in his eye told her that. Yet she wasn’t letting this go. “So?” she asked. “You’re serious?” Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, and her words dried up. She nodded slowly. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Why should I do this for you? Give me the real reason this time.” She sucked in her breath and searched for a hint of moisture. If she’d tested him earlier today, he was now returning the favor. “Wh-what I said,” she squeaked. “You’re ... perfect.” Childish. Both her words and his expression made her look so childish. He didn’t speak, and her resolve melted. She tried to explain. “I ... I have to teach muscle development a-and if I had an ex-example, such as yourself, then ...” “You’d parade me in front of the class? That’d cause a stir.” He was right. That was lame, and not what she’d meant. “Yes, it would, but ...” “Plus, if we’re seeing each other, then that’d add to it. Don’t you think?” Was he teasing or serious? Again, he’d not given her time to explain. “I’m just the history teacher,” he said. But Austin wasn’t just anything. And though she felt foolish and though this looked pathetic, it wouldn’t let go of its over her until she saw the sight again. She gulped. “Yes, but maybe you’d show me?” He stood to his feet and glancing down at her, took hold of her arm. “Inside.”

Why did she want to see? Worse yet, why did he want to cooperate and show her? Right when Austin thought he’d figured Eden out, figured their budding relationship out, he hadn’t really figured it out at all. He’d always taken care of himself. Being physically fit was as much a part of him as teaching history or coaching football games. Walking around shirtless, however, was not. Sure, he was pleased with his appearance, but why have a big head about it? A woman should value him for more than the view. Plus, though she must find him attractive or she wouldn’t be interested — after all, he’d told her she was beautiful — the thought she wanted to see him like that at this stage in the game was ... strange. Then again, maybe it wasn’t. She’d had her audacious side from the start. She’d asked him to lunch. She’d made this date. She’d asked for a kiss. This was simply another item in the line of things. Eden decided what she wanted and went after it, even though she often changed her mind in the middle. Austin came to a halt in the living room, still reasoning with himself. What was the big deal? He mowed the lawn without a shirt. He worked out without a shirt. He crossed his arms. He’d play her game, put his thoughts out there and see what she said. “I haven’t any idea why I’m agreeing to this, except you’ve bewitched me somehow.” A soft smile crept on her face, and her cheeks pinked. “I’m only going to do it this once, and then you’re not going to ask again.” He sounded teacherish, and he shouldn’t. She was the woman he’d said to himself he would kiss. The one he’d told himself he was serious about. Plus, she’d shared her secrets with him, told him things even her family didn’t know. “I’m forever surprised by you,” he said. “You ask things I never expect a woman to ask.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. “Let me finish. I’m surprised by myself as well. I had no idea how reserved I’ve become until you pointed it out, nor how gullible I am for the appraisal of a pretty face.”

She moistened her lips. “If I might say something.” He nodded. “If I it this is as much for me as anything else. Does that help?” He offered a crooked smile. “You, Eden Riske, are a tease, and I’m a sucker.” With that, he shed his shirt. She sucked in a breath, her gaze focused in front of her, and raising her hand, palm outward, laid it flat to his skin. Shifting it right and downward, she traced the path of his muscles, exploring the confirmation he’d worked so hard to attain. She encircled his naval and fingered his abs. He stared down at her the whole time, seeing mostly the top of her head, the way her hair wrapped about her face and spilled over delicate shoulders, and his desire to kiss her returned, a spark ignited by her touch. She craned her neck back to see his face. “I it to not seeing many men with their shirts off,” she said. “A few models at the agency. But truthfully, those were even less than average, and they didn’t matter anyhow because I wasn’t dating any of them. But you, and this is from a health teacher’s standpoint, you’re amazing.” “And from Eden’s standpoint?” he asked. She’d wanted this. She’d have to speak the truth. Her eyes grew deep. “I don’t have to go home tonight.” The implication of her words stunned him. He heard his own breath shiver. She curved her hand around his neck, sealing them together. “I could stay here.” Temptation. How he would have jumped at the chance years ago. How he wanted to do it now. The thought of making love to her all but blinded him. Yet he detached himself, peeling her hands away and folding them together. “We need to talk.” He put his shirt back on, shaking it back in place. “I’m flattered,” he said, “but I can’t.” The hurt in her eyes tugged at his heart. “Let me rephrase that. I can. I want to.

You’re so beautiful.” She brushed her hair from her shoulders. “I don’t understand. I thought you were serious about me.” “I am. I meant all I said today. I want a relationship with you. But ...” He tapped her chin, tilting it upward. “You haven’t been with a man.” He’d startled her saying that. The muscle tic in her cheek told him so, and he regretted it. But her lack of experience with men was obvious in everything she did. As lovely as she was, she didn’t have a clue about what intimacy entailed. “That isn’t a crime. It’s a treasure,” he continued. “That you’d offer something so priceless to me means a lot. But I don’t want a one-night stand. I don’t want a fling. I want to fall in love, and the right woman to fall in love with me. I want marriage and children and happy years together until we’re old and gray and wrinkly.” She wrinkled her brow. “But what if I want all those things? Then what’s wrong with it?” “What’s wrong is there’s no commitment behind it. A man and woman should only give of their flesh because they’ve given their hearts, and that takes time. My parents have been together all these years because of the love they have for each other. It’s stood them through some really awful times, including my drinking problem.” “Well, so what if I agree to that, to falling in love, what then?” she asked. “You could kiss me.” He pulled back a smile. “Eden Riske, you’re like a drug.” She seemed shaken by that statement, her countenance paling and lips pressing together tight. “When I was drinking, I lived for the next encounter with the bottle, the next moment I could curl up and consume just a bit more. I couldn’t enjoy today because tomorrow might be better.” “Y-you didn’t enjoy today?”

He took her hands in his. “Not what I meant. I only meant I don’t want how beautiful you are to cause me to make rash decisions that I wouldn’t have made except for how you’ve affected me.” “So you won’t kiss me?” He raised his thumb to her lips. Such amazing lips. “I’ve already decided to do that,” he said. He moved his hand around to the back of her head and raised her mouth to his, taking the tender flesh in his teeth and dipping his tongue into the sweetness of her lips. She curved to him, digging in, her hand clutching his shirt, and he sampled her again. Time uprooted and was replaced by longing and hunger. He pulled away, but only an inch. Their lips brushed, her breath mingling with his. “You sure you want me to go home?” she asked. “No.” He laughed lightly. Her hand brought him back in, back to thirst and need and a weightless sensation of falling without a net there to catch him. He parted and smiled at her glazed expression. “Are you sure you want to stay?” he asked quietly. She shook herself, opening and closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “Yes, but maybe I’m not prepared.” She laughed at that, jittery, and laid her cheek to his chest. “That was the most amazing experience ever.” “It was, and I think we should follow it up by watching a movie. Maybe something less conducive to follow-up plans.” He turned her around and tapped her in the small of her back. “Well, okay,” she said. “But my mind’s gonna be somewhere else.” He smirked. No doubt. And his as well.

“You’re home?” Staci looked up from her perch at Adam’s side, an inquisitive look on her face. His expression said something similar, but less why and more good thing. “Where else would I be? It’s midnight, and I’m tired.” Eden adopted a casual air, stifling any hint of disappointment. Austin had been right anyhow. After that kiss, she’d known that what came after was volatile. He wasn’t ready, and neither was she. “But ...” “She said she was home,” Adam said, interrupting Staci. Eden moved through the room and down the hall, ignoring them both. She sank onto her bed, bending over to remove her shoes. Staci’s presence in the doorway brought her head up. “Do you need something?” Eden asked, dropping one sneaker on the floor. “No.” Staci glanced behind her and shut the door. “Spill.” “Spill what?” And why should she? So she could tote it all to Adam? Staci must have read this thought on her face because she answered it in her next words. “Between me, you, and the bed post. Don’t tell me you planned on coming home.” Eden dipped her head, aware that was a sure sign she hadn’t, one Staci called her out on. “Look at me.” Her other shoe dangling in her hand, Eden brought her gaze up. “Like I thought. You weren’t, yet here you are.” She dropped the shoe, the soft thud echoing in the room. “Well, it wasn’t rejection,” she said.

“Then what was it?” “Reluctance?” Staci walked over to the bed and seated herself at Eden’s side. “On your part or his?” “Both.” She answered without hesitation. “He’s ... perceptive where I’m concerned, figures things out without my saying anything, and he saw the truth.” “The truth?” Eden inhaled. “That I’m a virgin.” “He rejected you for that?” Eden’s temper flared. “I already said it wasn’t rejection. Didn’t I? He called it a treasure, but said I wasn’t ready for intimacy. Then he kissed me and proved it. Honestly, I feel like I’m twelve. Why’s it your business or Adam’s anyhow?” Staci threw up her hands. “It isn’t, and I’m sorry. But I didn’t want you to be upset. I mean, he seems nice, but ...” “He is nice. And kind and a perfect gentleman and ...” Tears pushed at her eyelids. She rubbed them away. “Eden, what is it?” She sniffled. “Nothing. It’s been a long day, Stace. Can’t I get some sleep?” She wasn’t ready to tell them everything. That was asking too much. Austin had known about her addiction somehow, and she’d known he did, so telling him had been the most natural thing. But for the rest of her family— Staci stood. “Of course, and I’m sorry for making you mad.” She walked to the door and took hold of the knob but paused and glanced over her shoulder. “He kissed you?” Eden smiled. “You could call it that.” This brought Staci’s eyebrows up. “That good, huh? Okay, I won’t ask.

Goodnight.” The door shut with a click, and Eden slipped out of her shorts and into bed. One kiss and the stars and moon had all aligned in orbit, and also a strange eagerness to know what it’d be like to be his. He’d been right. No, she wasn’t ready, but that didn’t make her not wonder about next time. His voice rose in her thoughts. He’d walked her to the door, but not kissed her again. I’ll call you tomorrow. I think I need a day if that’s okay. She’d nodded. A day’s space. So I’ll see you Monday? she’d asked. Yes, first thing. Monday, the first day of school. Anxiety riffled through her, and she tugged the bed sheets up higher. Maybe she wasn’t ready for that either.

Rumors were already swirling when she exited her car in the school parking lot. They increased during her steps to her classroom, becoming deafening by the time she seated herself. She wondered briefly where Austin was, but that thought dissipated quickly. She hadn’t the time or the nerve to search for him before students started filing in. She had listened to Staci’s advice from last week, toning down the makeup and putting her hair up. She’d also chosen the most conservative outfit she’d owned. But despite this, as nervous faces began filing in, she felt overdressed and out of place. Her advantage was in knowing what was going on, which they didn’t. She held herself steady before the curious gazes, motioning the students to a seat, and somehow managed to not leap in place when the bell rang. A general cacophony of sound continued long after, however, and she allowed it for a time. After all, there was a lot of catching-up to do between friends after the long summer. But after five minutes, she held up her hand for silence. What greeted her though was a blunt question. “It true you were a porn star?” Porn star? The blood drained from her face, and Eden’s hands grew cold. She smacked her lips seeking moisture. “N-no,” she stammered. “Because I’d do you.” Taken aback, she could only stare, her mind emptied of all conscious thought. “You can’t do her,” said another boy. “She’s doing Coach Lowell.” She most certainly was not. But the refusal wouldn’t emerge, so she floundered. The noise in the room increased again, most of it directed at her, and unable to think, she simply stood there. Then Austin’s words returned. Act confident, like you know what you’re doing, because the minute you show any slack at all they’ll use that against you. She

gathered herself. She was the teacher; they were the students. She’d messed up. She’d known there’d be talk. She should never have caved to it. Turning around she lifted a stack of textbooks from a table under the blackboard and casually dropped them in the floor. The resounding smack shut the class up instantly. “Now,” she said. “I will address the rumors.” A shape in the doorway caught her eye. Austin. She didn’t falter in her speech, but the strength of his presence whisked through her. “My name is Miss Eden Riske. I am a former college cheerleader and model who has chosen to pursue the occupation she graduated from college qualified for, that of a health teacher. I intend to do my job, and if you want to , you will obey my rules and do my assignments. As to my personal life, if you have any questions in that regard, I suggest you take them up with Mr. Lowell himself.” The shape shifted and disappeared from view. “Now, you and you.” She pointed her finger to the two boys who’d started the rumor. “Come pick these up and them out. One to each student, please.”

CHAPTER 8 “Mr. Lowell? I heard ...” Austin looked up from his paperwork into the brown-eyed gaze of seventeenyear-old Damon Geoffrey. Midday and every class the same thing. Frankly, he was tired of it, but not surprised. His face settled into a stern expression. “Is it related to this class?” Damon’s voice lowered. “No.” “Will it affect your grade?” “No.” “Then it doesn’t matter.” Austin shifted his focus back to his desk. Damon’s footsteps receded, and he exhaled silently. His pen moved across the page, almost on its own, but his thoughts were across the hall. That was his other problem today. Counteracting the rumors was easy enough. Wondering how she was doing, though, was driving him crazy. A smile crawled on his face. She’d handled herself well enough this morning, however. “Coach?” Austin raised his gaze again. Everett Jenkins leaned one hand on the edge of the desk and removed it just as quickly at Austin’s expression. “I mean, Mr. Lowell.” Austin sat back. That was his rule. Coach stayed on the field; Mr. Lowell taught class. And Everett, of all kids, knew it. “I was wondering if you had any dating advice.” Austin rose to his feet. “Out,” he said. Everett, in the midst of the class snickers, ambled out the door into the hall. Austin looked behind before he exited, causing the snickers to cease. He left it

cracked and faced Everett, who waited against the painted concrete walls. “I expect better from a man of your social status. Others look up to you, and I find it disappointing that you would risk everything you’ve worked so hard to attain simply to indulge in rumors.” Everett’s lip curled. “They ain’t rumors. I saw you holding hands.” Austin crossed his arms over his chest. “You did. I won’t deny that. But anything else is a rumor because I don’t recall sharing my private thoughts with you.” Everett’s expression was unchanged, and he gave no response. “Now, I will overlook your remarks. But if they continue, you will be out of this class. Ask yourself how that will affect your GPA and as a result, playing football.” “Sorry, Mr. Lowell.” The apology was instant, but a sneer remained in Everett’s tone. Austin decided to let it slide. For now. Hopefully, with some time, the trouble would cease. Everett wouldn’t risk not playing football. “Go back to your desk.” Everett returned inside, and Austin glanced across the empty corridor and sighed. Her door was shut. He moved back into the classroom and found the students’ faces gazing up at him. He walked to the chalkboard and added to the assignment written down the right-hand side. “Since you have so much time for talking. I’m adding these questions to your current assignment. I suggest you get to work.” A chorus of groans accompanied his statement followed by a rather loud, “Thanks, Everett.” Austin returned to his desk, suppressing a grin. The teacher always wins. They’d figure that out soon enough. The class finished in silence, erupting at the lunch bell into a furor of voices and rapidly moving feet, and the room emptied in a matter of minutes. Austin

completed his paperwork, taking his time to avoid appearing eager, and filed the sheets in a drawer. Eden met him outside her classroom, a smile on her face. “That’s a good sign,” he said. He tucked his hands in his pockets. All the students needed were the fodder his touching her would bring. “You were there.” He motioned toward the stairs, and she fell in at his side. “Yes, but you handled yourself.” “I ed what you said about confidence.” Her voice lowered. “One boy said I was ...” “Shh.” Austin hushed her. “It’s not necessary, and for what it’s worth, I’ve been getting flack all morning myself.” “You?” Her voice echoed in the empty stairwell, so she repeated the word quieter. “You? Why would they bother you?” “Everett’s been spinning tales, but I think he’ll shape up now.” At least, he hoped. “That’s the boy from the mall?” she asked. “I think I have him for last period.” “And I’m sorry for that. If you have any trouble ...” She waved a hand. “No, I’ll be fine. I simply have to grow a spine. Most of the kids have been great. It’s that one handful of boys, ogling me constantly.” They quieted at the bottom of the stairs and made their way to the Teacher’s Lounge. A dozen heads glanced up from various stages of their meals. Joe’s round, bald pate sat center of them all. “Well, if it isn’t the world’s most beautiful couple,” he said. Tracy from , seated opposite him, leaned back and clapped.

Austin halted, one hand on his hip. “What did we do to deserve applause?” “Hook up.” This remark came from Joe. “So tell me, Mr. Lowell, what rumors have you heard? I’ve had three, no four, students ask me about your new ... let’s see, what was the word one student used? ‘Hottie’ I believe it was.” “That doesn’t top what was said to me,” Eden said. Surprised she’d spoken, Austin glanced at her. She’d been so private about her past. Then again, they hadn’t been in public together before. “Can we sit?” she asked. He pulled out a chair for her and settled at her side. Joe leaned his elbows on the table. “And what was said to you, Miss Riske?” She offered a smile. “Let’s dismiss the formalities. Call me Eden.” “Eden then.” The entire room was listening at this point, a fact Eden was apparently well aware of. She seemed to warm to her audience and stated the answer forthright. “A boy in first period said I was a porn star.” This brought a collective gasp, including his. “A girl in second said I had, I believe the phrase was, ‘debased myself,’ and last class, one boy offered me his underwear.” Austin’s hand hit the tabletop with a smack. “Who?” “Down boy,” Tracy said. “She seems to be okay.” Laughter echoed all around. “Miss Riske.” Amelia spoke, and heads turned her way. “I want to commend you for surviving until lunchtime. Your mother would be proud. Your brother, however, would haul you out.” “Kicking and screaming,” Eden said. This brought more laughter.

“I don’t think you’ll mind me telling this, but I had the pleasure of teaching Eden years ago, and she was an exceptional student. She did have the most overprotective brother, however.” “Amen,” Austin added. “Speaking from experience, that is,” he added. Amelia drifted across the room. “He gets that from her mother, which brings me to another thing. I was talking to her last night ...” Heads drifted back to their lunch, and a general conversation increased. Amelia pulled up a chair. “She said Saturday she’s meeting your new boyfriend.” She focused on his face. “I take it you know about this?” He smirked. “She told me. I figure if I can survive the brother. I’ll manage the mom.” Amelia smiled and squeezed his arm with one hand on. “You’ll do fine. Just stand steady if she lapses into Russian. She’ll come back around eventually.” She turned her gaze to Eden. “Joan Bisbee wants to meet with you after school today, around three fifteen. She says she’ll come to your room.” A visible change came over Eden’s features, her countenance washing a bit whiter. “I wanted to let you know, anything you need, come to me and ask,” Amelia continued. “We want you to be comfortable here in every way possible.” Eden dipped her chin, her certainty from earlier gone now. “Thanks.” Amelia rose, but the look on her face told him she knew her words had the opposite effect. He took Eden’s fingers in his. Joe’s sharp-eyed gaze noticed as did Tracy’s. But Austin no longer cared. He would protect her from the students, but the teachers would have to get used to it. She shifted her hand, lacing her fingers with his. “Half a day left,” he said. “I’ll come to your room around three.” She nodded, relief evident on her face.

Exhaustion set in during the last class of the day. Physical tiredness. She’d not been on her feet so much, ever. Mental tiredness. The weight of students’ words and ribald looks had taken their toll. Add to that anticipation over the meeting with Joan about cheerleading, and Eden found herself scatterbrained. She made several obvious mistakes as a result. She became lost in the midst of reading the school rulebook and had to stop and find her place. This resulted in a tittering murmur through the class. She then became tongue tangled midsentence, and both sounded and felt foolish afterward. She did her best to hold her head high, ing out a light assignment to occupy the remaining time and moving to the blackboard. Eraser in hand, she swept it over the surface, aware of a strange hum in the classroom, and squealed when a hand, warm and firm cupped her bottom. She spun on her heel and gazed into the snide face of Everett Jenkins. He made no bones about what he’d done but lifted his fingers to his nose and sniffed. Heat in her gut flared, and she pointed her finger to the door. “Get out of my classroom.” He gave a crooked grin and rolled his eyes before strolling out the door. She took a deep breath and, with a glance at the class, exited to face him. Seeing renewed expression on his face, the horrible moment refreshed itself, and her temper heated. “That behavior is unacceptable. Go straight to the office, and do not expect me to keep this from Coach Lowell.” His gaze darkened. “You would tell, since you’re sleeping with him.” “Enough. Go. I will call and make sure you get there.” She waited until he disappeared from view before returning inside. Crossing the room, she spoke into the intercom. “This is Miss Riske. I’m sending Everett Jenkins down for ... fondling the teacher.” Someone in the class laughed, and she fixed her gaze that direction. The sound ceased, though there were a few lingering smiles. “We’ll expect him,” said a voice.

Eden moved toward her desk but paused in front of the class. Her tiredness leaked out. One long day, a lot of harassment, and she was beat. Sleep sounded good. And Austin. She exhaled, her shoulders drooping, and stared into the eyes of the students. “You haven’t any idea what it’s like to have your life scrutinized,” she said. “But I am your teacher and regardless of what you say about me, I’m not leaving. So you have a choice. You can make this class easy and get down to the business of learning, or you can make this class hard and wish you’d hadn’t. It’s up to you.” She waved her hand toward their books. “Work on the assignment you were given in silence. I expect tomorrow to be better.” With that, she moved to her desk. Satisfied at the sight of heads bent over the page, she settled down for a moment’s peace. A cough from in front of her desk brought her gaze up. “Miss Riske?” It was a girl named Lauren. Sweet girl with rather fuzzy hair and doe-like brown eyes. “Yes, Lauren?” “I just want to say we’re sorry ... about Everett.” She motioned toward the class. “He had no business doing that.” She squirmed, shifting her feet back and forth. “And we like Coach ... Mr. Lowell. You have the right to be happy.” Eden lowered her pen and flattened her hand on the desk. “Thank you, Lauren. That means a lot.” Lauren returned to her desk, and the class continued with their work until the final bell rang. But Eden sat there after the class had filed out, her thoughts on the girl’s final phrase. You have a right to be happy. That’s all she’d ever wanted, to be happy. She’d initially thought fame would bring it, and money, only to realize with a bottle of pills in her hand that she’d lost her joy along the way. Joy she hadn’t been able to find until gazing into the eyes of a broad-shoulder muscular man with a kind heart and a gentle manner.

Big on the outside, and tough and strong. But tenderhearted and comionate inside. Two knocks on the door frame brought her from her reverie. Austin entered, his expression a cross between a question and a smile. She stood and without pause, walked over and laid her head on his chest. “I don’t care who sees,” she said. “I need you.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You survived.” She pulled her head back. “Everett grabbed my rump.” This widened his gaze and set his jaw. “I sent him to the office,” she said. His face was red and his voice, harsh. “That goes beyond bad behavior. That’s harassment, and it should be reported.” Reported? Surely, that was a little much. “Did you speak with the office?” he asked. “No, because I had kids here and didn’t want to make an issue of it.” Like he was doing. He grasped her shoulders and put her at an arm’s length. “You have to make an issue of it. If you’d touched him, the cops would be involved. It isn’t any different because he touched you. He had no right. No one has any right.” Austin glanced at the clock hanging over the blackboard. “We need to go down and see what’s being done.” “But ...” she began. He tightened his grip on her. “No buts. I won’t have him around you again. That’s final.” With that, he pushed her before him out the door toward the stairs.

Austin’s anger surged at sight of Everett Jenkins in the school office, but he restrained himself from doing what came immediately to mind. Namely, tossing him headfirst out the door. They had to handle this correctly. Everett attempted to look proud, but failed somewhat, his mannerism proclaiming his nervousness and a certain fear over what would happen. Austin looked past him to Tracy, who was on the phone. “Yes, officer. We’ll be here.” Relief washed over him. At least, Tracy had taken the correct action. But Eden’s face displayed her apprehension over it. He exhaled. She’d put up with too much in her life. Sure, it was easier to let things go, to run away, that had been her behavior thus far, but it had solved nothing. Secrets only gave birth to more secrets. No, they needed to nip this in the bud. Amelia appeared from her office. “Mr. Jenkins, you are in a world of trouble,” she said. “I have called your mother, and she is on her way.” She glanced at Tracy. “You’ve ed the authorities?” Tracy nodded. “They’ll be here in fifteen.” Everett’s insolent manner fell. “I didn’t do anything.” Didn’t do ... Austin drew himself to his full height. “You groped your teacher. That is ...” “Austin, please,” Eden said. He turned to her. “No. You’ve put up with enough. You have to stand up this time.” This time. Both Amelia and Tracy looked his way, and guilt entered. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her, but what he’d said was true. She had to put a stop to it. “I’m used to it. It’s no big deal.” Her words only belied his thoughts.

“It is a big deal,” he said. “If you let him have an inch, he’ll take a mile. Then every other male student will do the same. Plus, I can’t and won’t have him on my team.” He’d stated this clearly enough already this year. “Coach?” Everett said. Desperation sat on his face now. “I have to play. Please don’t kick me off the team.” But his behavior had gone beyond playing football. Austin crossed his arms over his chest. “You should have thought of that. I gave a warning that I intend to keep.” “You can’t cut me.” “I can. There are consequences to your actions, which reflect on this entire school.” Everett’s face changed, his gaze growing dark. “This is only because she’s your girlfriend. If it’d been anyone else, you’d have overlooked it.” Austin spoke clipped. “I will never overlook wrong. I’ve warned you numerous times.” With that, Everett erupted. Flying out of his seat, he swung an arm outward in an arc, but followed through in empty air because Austin in one swoop tackled him flat on the office floor. Everett gave an oomph and a groan, his cheek pressed hard to the tile. “You’re done,” Austin said. “Assaulting a teacher. That’s an automatic suspension and probably expulsion as well,” Amelia said. Everett’s next words rose up in the room, smacking them all hard in the face. Austin reeled, his mind spinning, and heard Eden’s body hit the ground. He twisted himself around. “Eden?” Amelia and Tracy rushed to her side. Her head pillowed in Amelia’s lap, Eden

blinked upward at the ceiling, stunned. Austin looked back at Everett. How had he known? He had to have spent considerable time digging. Not even Amelia had been able to find that out. What possessed a kid to go to such lengths to destroy his teacher? Everett’s statement repeated in his brain, each revolution a nail stabbing him in the heart. Drug addict. Pill popper. Did you do that before or after you slept with the photographer?

CHAPTER 9 Austin fingers stroking her cheek, her face upturned in his lap, Eden stared upwards into his gentle eyes. Such a beautiful man. The refrigerator knocked, dumping ice cubes into the tray, and from somewhere distant, a dog barked. “I can’t believe he said that.” She’d repeated this statement four times now, twice on the way home, and twice sitting here with him. She shifted her legs over the arm of the couch, swinging her bare feet in midair. “Why did he say that? How did he find anything out?” She hadn’t slept with anyone. She’d told Austin that the first chance they’d gotten to be alone, and he’d said he’d never thought she had. It must be misinformation gleaned from Lord knows where on the internet and twisted to fit Everett’s need. “We’ll never know,” he said. “What matters is what you do with it.” “I don’t know what to do with it. I’ve only ever told you about my addiction, but now Amelia knows. And Tracy. It’s only a matter of time before my parents find out. Oh, God, and Adam.” Austin gave her a tender smile at mention of her brother. “He’ll flip but be okay. I’m behind you whatever you decide.” She looked away, a sigh escaping at the settle of his hand on her neck. “I should tell them Saturday,” she said. She glanced back upward. “At the dinner?” He nodded. It was as good a time as any. Plus, Adam was hosting, so the whole family would be assembled. But— “How do I say it? Do I simply come out like, ‘Hey, I was addicted to pills.’” She waved her hands outward.

“Tell you what, I’ll bring it up. How’s that?” he asked. She stretched an arm and laid it on his cheek. “I ask myself every day since we met how I came home and found a man so good for me.” He smiled. “Flattery will take you places.” Her face brightened. “Oh? Where?” “Come here,” he said. She raised herself to a sitting position and turned to face him. He brushed the tips of his fingers along the contours of her face. “You are the most beautiful woman,” he said. Lowering his hand, he pressed it to her chest. “In here most of all.” He then tapped his forefinger to her forehead. “And in here. No man deserves to use that beauty for his own benefit.” She leaned forward. “What if I offer it to someone? One very handsome man in particular.” Their lips touched, but he reversed. “He’s a lucky man. Every day he can look in your face is better than the last.” “Sweet words,” she said. “But what can he do to prove it?” Their mouths met, and she parted her lips, beckoning him in. The slip and slide, the delicate dance of his tongue and hers heated her body. Reluctantly, she pulled away. “I liked Joan.” Austin laughed and shook his head. “I kiss you and you think of Joan?” She smiled. “You kiss me, and I think of other things. But like you said before, there’s no need to get carried away.” He dusted her nose with his finger. “So okay, tell me about Joan.” Once she’d awakened from her stupor in the floor, she’d realized Joan would be upstairs waiting for her. Fortunately, Joan Bisbee was an extremely nice person and seemed to understand.

“Well, she knows the girls, has met with them once before school started, and has assembled a chart of the cheers they did last year. That’s helpful.” “But how are you with it?” he asked. She stared across at him. “Terrified but determined. I have to work through this.” “I’m glad to hear you say that.” She rearranged herself and laid her head on his chest. “You’re like a brick wall,” she said. “Something I can hang onto and build upon.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she snuggled in. “Tell me I don’t have to go home.” “Mmm. You don’t have to go home ... right now.” She groaned. “And there isn’t school tomorrow?” His answer melded in with the steady thrub of his heartbeat in her ears, a pulse and a rumble, the most beautiful sounds. “We’ll pretend,” he said. “Until about eleven o’clock.”

Eden nodded off, having managed to wiggle out of her brother’s questions about her first day. Because more and more, it became evident she was lousy at lying. Austin had proved that to her soundly. She was tired anyway and nervous about her second day. Plus, it was late, so she had a valid excuse. She awakened from deep sleep to the splintering crash of broken glass. Groggy, it took a few minutes to she hadn’t dreamed it, something reinforced by Adam’s cursing in the living room. She pulled herself from bed, wrapping a robe around her, and wandered down the hall. He stood midway across the living room with a brick in his hand and a field of glass around his bare feet. “What happened?” she asked. His grip on the brick tightened, his knuckles whitening. “Apparently, someone tossed this through the window.” She stared at his toes. “And you walked through it?” She indicated the splintered glass. “Don’t move. I’ll get the broom.” Returning from the kitchen, she swept up the mess, which freed him to move. He sank down onto the couch. Evening fog had begun to drift in through the new opening, creating a cloudy atmosphere. “Why?” she asked. He turned the brick over. “Vandals? I should go out, find something to cover that up.” Rising, he went down the hall for his shoes then disappeared out the front door. He wasn’t gone long, however, before he returned, his breath coming in gasps. “What happened today?” he asked. She wrinkled her brow. “Why? Shouldn’t you worry about the window?” “Come outside.” He took her hand and dragged her outside into the dewy grass, waving toward

the wall. “Now, tell me again what happened today.” Eden’s mood sunk for, there, painted on the side of the house in red were two words. Sex teacher. Adam’s gaze drilled into her skull. “It was difficult,” she said at last, doing her best to maintain some calm. “Difficult? Explain difficult to me.” “There was name calling,” she said. “Harmless really.” His hands were on his hips now. “Name calling does not cause people to paint things on my house!” He was shouting now. “Please, Adam, calm down. It’s no big deal.” “Where was your boyfriend?” She glanced at him. Had he just called Austin her boyfriend? It was a good feeling, but in this light, perhaps not so much. “He had his own class, but he did watch over me.” The fog had thickened, and she shivered in the night air. “I’m getting cold. Can we go in?” He gave a snort. “Go. But do not go to bed, or I will wake you up.” Obedient, she drifted indoors. After a few minutes had ed, she decided to have a glass of hot tea while she waited, and by the time she’d fixed it, Adam was hanging a tarp over the broken window. The tap-tap of his hammer and squeak of the ladder filtered into the room alongside the outlined shape of him moving left to right. A good thirty minutes and an empty teacup later, he returned inside. “You look worse for wear,” she said. “Tea?” He nodded. She left the room, returning five minutes later with a full cup, a dish of sugar, and a spoon. He sat back and sipped in silence, then abruptly set his cup down. A rush of affection swept through her, and she pillowed her cheek on his shoulder. He laid an arm around her waist in response.

“Tell me again what happened today.” He seemed calmer now. “Promise you won’t get mad?” “I’m too tired.” He sounded it. “Because Austin made sure the kid paid,” she added. She meant this as consolation. However, Adam’s eyes could have carved steel. “Eden.” She inhaled. There was no way around it but to tell the truth. “A kid named Everett grabbed my butt.” “Aw, gees, no. I knew it. I knew it. You are not going back there.” “Adam, I have to.” She grabbed hold of his raised arm. “You are not going back there.” He tried to shake her off, but she clung harder. “I’m going back. Besides, he’s been arrested.” “Arrested?” His voice rose even more. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” He waved an arm at the billowing tarp. “But he can’t have done it. He’s in jail.” Or she assumed he was. She had no idea how long they’d keep him there. “I’m sure he has family, Eden. And now, I have this mess to deal with. Plus, I have to work tomorrow and somehow call insurance and the cops. Plus there’s that ... that ...sign on the wall.” He sagged. “Didn’t I see paint in the garage?” she asked. He glanced at her. “I’ll change and we’ll go paint over it.” “Now? It’s three in the morning.” She patted his arm. “Everyone’s asleep. No one will see it.”

He gave a grunt, which she took as assent. But as she rose, he gripped her. Tugging her back down by his side, he took hold of her face in his palms. “Is there anything else you’re keeping from me?” Her stomach clenched. Not now. Now wasn’t the time to tell him. Saturday, with Austin there, she’d tell them all the truth. She willed her body to be still and the darkness of the room to somewhat hide her face. “Eden.” “No. Nothing else. Now, let me go, or we’ll be up all night.” He released her, and she made her way down the hall. A little white lie, that’s all it was. She’d make it right on Saturday, and they’d understand. They had to. She simply couldn’t tell it tonight.

Everett’s arrest the day before sent the rumors about her swirling even harder, though gratefully, his words in the front office had been contained. Her sleepdeprived state had her stumbling through morning classes, wondering if any of the kids were responsible. None seemed to act strange or say anything out of place, so after a while she let it go. She didn’t see Austin until lunchtime, and by then, she was dead on her feet, a fact he noticed when she crawled out from behind her desk. He wrapped her in his arms. “You didn’t sleep?” She exhaled loudly. “I was house painting.” “House painting?” He backed up a ways. “Someone threw a brick through the living room window at about three a.m.” His face said he was worried. And confused. “Adam went out to get a tarp, for the window? And discovered someone had painted sex teacher on the wall.” Austin brushed his hand down her cheek. “You’re okay?” “Sleepy. A little scared, maybe. He was angry, tried to keep me from coming to work.” “He did call the cops. Right?” She nodded. “This morning, though they were mad we painted over the damage. Do you ... think it’s related to Everett?” Austin’s shoulders drooped. “I don’t know. He comes from a broken home. His mom runs around with a lot of different men. His dad’s not in the picture. He has one brother, older, who’s been in and out of jail.” He sighed. “I’ve wished I could reach him, but he seems bent on destruction. There was a big stink last year between him and another player on the team, kid by the name of Mark. Mark’s a great kid, decent player, but doesn’t have the same charisma as Everett. Everett used that to his advantage to steal Mark’s girlfriend. Girl by the name of

Amberlin. They had a big fall out.” “Amberlin Devine?” Eden asked. Austin lowered his hands. “Yes, why?” “She’s on my squad. Which reminds me, I have practice after school.” He smiled at her. “You okay with that?” “Jittery, but not as much as I was.” She buried her face in his shirt. “Please tell me this week has an ending to it.” He stroked her back with his left hand. “It does. I promise. Now, let’s use what time we have left to grab a bite to eat.”

“Coach?” Austin met the gaze of Mark Raines across the locker room. Helmet dangling in his hand, Mark approached. “I was wondering if I could play Everett’s position.” They were at a disadvantage without Everett. But Mark was simply not at the same level of endurance nor could he quite do all the plays. “I think I’m going to let Gabney do that,” Austin said. Eli Gabney was more Everett’s size and had played the position before. There’d be less to train and thus less work for himself. Mark was clearly disappointed. He thumped his helmet with his right fist. “Man, I always get the short end of the stick. I can do it better. Gabney’s an oaf.” Gabney was not the best student, if that’s what Mark meant by oaf. But he worked hard and that made up for a lot in Austin’s thinking. Austin crossed his arms over his chest. “We don’t call our fellow players names, Mark. Gabney’s better suited for it, and you’re doing a fine job where you’re at.” Mark was apparently not much comforted by that, however. “I don’t get it. He’s not here, and I still lose to him. C’mon, Coach, please. We’re on the same side. He took my girl. He went after yours.” Austin stiffened. Hearing Eden referred to as his girl was new, but not so pleasing coming from a student in this way. “My choice is final for now,” he said. Mark turned and stepped away, dragging his feet on the way out of the locker room. Austin bent to gather his things but halted at the shout of the assistant coach. “D*mn, that new cheerleading coach is a fine piece of tail.” Gus Rouse had been his right-hand for three years now. He’d proven very

dependable, with a good knowledge of the plays and a rapport with the team, if perhaps too much on the vocal side. Austin withheld his reply, but not his scowl. Gus skidded to a halt. “I envy you, dude. But then I should have expected it. That type would want someone buff.” “‘That type’ is named Eden,” Austin said. “And she’s not a ‘piece of tail’ but a lovely young woman.” Gus never seemed to bat an eye. “Heard a rumor about her this morning,” he said. “Was floating around the locker room.” Austin fixed his gaze on Gus’s face and waited. But Gus didn’t seem inclined to proceed any further. “Care to tell me?” Austin said at last. “Well, not sure where it started, but word has it someone painted her house overnight.” Austin took hold of Gus’ arm. “Who?” Gus stared down at Austin’s fingers. “Like I said, I don’t know. That true? Course you would know,” he said. Austin debated on his answer, finally deciding there was no harm in telling it. “It’s true, and I’d like to know who’s responsible.” “Well, could be anyone. I’m not condoning it, you understand. But there was a crowd around at the time I heard it.” Austin released Gus’s arm. “Do me a favor and keep your ear to the ground,” he said. “But don’t say I said so.” Gus nodded. “Okay, meet you out there.” Gus left, and Austin picked up his clipboard and headed toward the door. Could be whoever had done the deed was satisfied and would disappear. Then again,

kids liked to talk, and that’d work against whoever actually did the crime. The bright afternoon sun blinding him temporarily, Austin stopped to shade his eyes and take assessment. His gaze roamed over the scattered football players then backward toward the gym. If only he could protect her from any more harm. But he couldn’t be everywhere, and she had Joan. He turned himself forward and continued toward the field. What had gotten into him? Now, instead of concentrating on the field and the game, his mind was all tied up with Eden, how she was, and if they’d get any time together. He tossed his clipboard down on the bench. Maybe this is what happened to you when you cared for someone. “All right,” he said, facing the players. “Let’s get started.”

There were twelve girls on the squad, eight who’d been on it before, and four newbies. Of those four, two had done cheerleading at other schools. That left only two who’d made it somehow through either sheer luck or talent. Which one remained to be seen. Joan introduced them. “This is Amy.” Amy, a stocky brunette waved enthusiastically. “Pamela.” Pamela also gave a friendly wave. Joan continued with the introductions, ending with the girl purported to be Everett’s girlfriend, Amberlin. She was an attractive, shapely brunette with almond eyes and a spunky attitude. She gave Eden a questionable gaze that seemed a tad hostile. Perhaps not too unusual given her boyfriend was arrested because of his behavior in Eden’s class. Eden dismissed it and concentrated on the cheers. She’d read through the list the day before, most of them typical high school stuff, and subsequently found her old knowledge from college slipping into place. It had surprised her how comfortable it felt and how much unlike the accident that injured her back it seemed. There really wasn’t anything to get uptight about. After all, she was the coach, not a participant, so she was safe from a repeat. Given that thought, she relaxed a lot more over the whole thing and looked forward to the first game. “Okay,” she said. “I need to see what you can and can’t do. Ms. Bisbee tells me you practiced numbers one through four, so let’s start with number one.” The girls lined up for the cheer, Amberlin taking the center. They executed it fairly well with only a bobble or two. “Amy, and your name was ... Christy,” Eden said. “You need to project and speak more crisp.” Both girls nodded. “Okay, go to the next one.” This cheer was a bit more complicated, with a handspring at the end. The girls moved into position at one end of the gym, and Joan gave the countdown. The two new girls actually did the handspring very well, in line with the rest. However, Amberlin lagged noticeably behind. “Amberlin,” Eden said. “You have to stay in with the others or everyone gets off. Okay, show me number four.”

Number four started off well, but the new girls didn’t know it so much and halfway through Amberlin slipped. She landed on her rear end with a grunt. When she didn’t rise, Eden strolled over. “Amberlin, what’s the problem?” Amberlin doubled over, gripping her waist and panting for breath. Eden knelt at her side. “Did you hurt yourself?” The girl shook her head. “I’m ... fine.” But her pallor was white and her face damp. Eden laid a hand on her forehead. Amberlin yanked away. “I’m fine,” she snapped. Drawing her legs up beneath her, she started to stand, but halfway up, gave a groan and folded over. Eden grasped her around the waist. “You’re not all right. Come sit, and tell me what’s going on.” The other girls gathered around the bleachers, their eyes spread wide. Amberlin clutched at her belly, her face buried in her lap. A sob escaped. Eden glanced at Joan, who was as clueless as herself, and startled at Amberlin’s words. “I can’t lose it,” she said in staggered breaths. She grunted. “Now, he’s gone, and it’s ... your fault. This is all I have.” He, Everett. She understood that. But what was this? And the truth shot through her. Eden waved Joan over. “Take my phone and call an ambulance. She’s pregnant.”

CHAPTER 10 “Hey, Stace,” Eden entered the house and tossed her bag of schoolwork on the table. The bag slumped, papers threatening to spill over the edge. Staci glanced over her shoulder from her position at the stove. A stray blonde curl sprang loose from the coil on her neck and landed between her eyes. “You’re not with Mr. Lowell?” she asked. Her lips curved, and a sparkle lit in her eye. Eden collapsed in a chair. “We had an emergency on the cheerleading squad that kept me late.” She leaned her head back on the wall, tiredness wafting through her. “What’s happening to society nowadays?” she asked. So awful that Everett would leave the poor girl like that. What had he been thinking to take advantage of her? That’s just it. He wasn’t thinking, or at least, thinking only of himself. Staci stirred the pot of what smelled like vegetable soup, releasing the spoon to spiral around the edge. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel laid to the right of the stove. “Which part of rotten society are you complaining about?” “So far in two days, I’ve been called numerous unrepeatable names, had my butt grabbed.” The fact Staci didn’t react to that announcement meant Adam had told her already. “Seen a kid arrested after he took a swing at his teacher, had vandals break the front window and paint horrible words on the house, and today, a girl on the squad had a miscarriage in the gymnasium.” Staci took a seat facing her, her smile fading. “Sad. Even sadder that I’m not surprised. It’s hard to believe there’s any goodness left in the world sometimes. That’s why I don’t watch the news, too depressing.” She clasped her hands over her knees. “The girl, she going to be all right?” “I think so, at least physically. Mentally is another matter.” Eden met Staci’s gaze. “She said the boy denied it was his.” The tick-tick of a clock over the pantry door was the only noise for a time. Eden shifted her gaze to the wall then returned it to Staci’s face. “You and Adam want to have children?”

That was something she’d never asked her before. Staci’s eyes brightened. “Don’t you think we need about three?” Eden laughed. “You’ve thought this out.” Staci bobbed her head. “Two girls and a boy, and I wanna give them those Russian names your mama couldn’t use. How ‘bout you and Mr. Lowell?” she asked with a wink. Eden swatted at her. “That’s jumping ahead for sure. I can’t believe you’d even ask.” Staci patted her hand. “Partly joshing, but I can imagine you’ve thought about kids.” But she hadn’t. Not that she’d ever said she wouldn’t have any; maybe in some part of her, she’d thought she would. But her life the last few years had taken her away from any thoughts like that. “I haven’t had time to think about family,” Eden said. No, all her time had been given to pain and pills. They were all she’d thought about for months. Then at the clinic, her thoughts changed to living free of her addiction. After that, finishing her schooling and coming here. There’d simply been too many things going on around her to think about other sides of life. “What’s got you mum?” Staci asked. Eden pulled herself more upright. “Secrets.” Staci’s expression changed, and Eden found she couldn’t meet her gaze. “I never realized how damaging they are. They eat away at you, poison from within.” “Why do I get the feelin’ we’re not just talking about the girl?” Staci said. “You all right? You know, you turned up here unexpected, and there’s been a lot of questions.” Eden nodded. “I know, and I have an explanation.” She forced her gaze to Staci’s. “I came here to forget, but more and more, Austin’s shown me it’s better

to . Now, with what happened to the girl today ...” “Your Mr. Lowell’s quite a guy,” Staci said, interrupting. Eden shut her eyes and pictured his face, her insides all a-whirl. Quite a guy. A guy she couldn’t imagine her life without. How had that happened in the space of week? “I feel like I should be over there, not over here,” she said. “So go.” Eden’s eyes flipped open. “I shouldn’t. He said he was going to the gym. He’s probably tired.” “Go,” Staci repeated. “But he’ll have his own papers to grade, and we were out so late last night.” Staci giggled lightly. “Listen to you, making excuses. That man’s crazy for you. Get in your car and go.” Eden jumped to her feet. “This is insane, but I’m taking your advice. I’m gone. Going. Be back later.” She left the room, then returned. “Can you put my bag on my bed?” Staci waved her out the door. “Go, you love bird.”

Austin gave a crooked smile and leaned on the door frame. “Didn’t we see each other today?” Eden’s face flushed, and her lips pursed seductively. “We did, but ...” “But what?” “But I missed you. You’re going to leave me out here?” He made no motion to move. “I need a shower. Between football and the gym, I’m dirty.” She stepped closer. “You are kinda smelly, and I’ll bet you’re eager to take that shirt off.” He shook his head and gave a single laugh then backed into the house. “I’ll only be a few,” he said. He left her in the living room and stepped into his bedroom, shedding his clothing and switching on the shower. The hot water did much to relax his sore muscles, the steam filling the small room and the fragrance of soap and shampoo cleansing his sinuses. He lathered and rinsed, then shut the water off and exited, the towel wrapped around his waist. Sight of Eden seated on the end of his bed, stopped him in place. “What are you doing?” She rose and walked over to him, her eyes sparkling. Draping her arms around his neck, she claimed his mouth. He started, throwing one hand to the towel. But the heat of his shower fresh skin against her welcoming curves softened his stance and sealed them together. He dipped his tongue between her lips, the taste of her a greater addiction than alcohol had ever been, and yielded to the sensual pleasure of holding her against him. He pulled back and kinked his neck. “You live dangerous.” She made no response, but gripping the bottom of her tank top, yanked it over her head. His insides quivered at sight of her smooth, velvety skin, the luscious

sweep and arch of her figure. Overwhelmed, he trailed one finger over the top of her breasts. “Why?” he asked. She was amazing. And hard to resist. She bit her lip then released it. “I have this side that dares me to do things.” “I’ve noticed.” He paused his hand at the strap of her bra. She shifted her shoulders and the strap slipped downward. “I wanted to see that chest again.” She reversed then, taking a step back, and pressed her lips to the muscles of his chest. She moved her mouth slowly down, pausing midway. The warmth of her breath spread across him. He cupped a hand to the back of her head and raised her back up. “Like I said, dangerous.” Her voice lowered. “I wish ... I wish there were no rules.” At that moment, so did he. And no vow of abstinence, only him and her and one night of pleasure. He slid his hand to her cheek and caressed it with his thumb. “I’d be lying to say you didn’t tempt me, and seeing you here like this is better than anything. But think about Everett and Amberlin. What happened to them was as much a result of not saying no as this would be.” “I don’t want to say no.” He smiled at her. “Me either.” He kissed her then, slowly, lingering on her lips, and she formed to him, trailing one hand down to his waist where she took hold of the towel. He stopped. Backing away, he bent over and plucked her shirt from the floor. “Why don’t you let me get dressed?” Her face asked why, at the same time giving the answer. Because that wasn’t what she wanted any more than it was what he wanted, but proceeding made him no better than any other randy teenager. She clutched her shirt to her chest but didn’t move. “Eden,” he said. “Please.”

“Tell me this isn’t because you’re afraid of me.” Afraid of her? He seated himself on the bed and gazed upward. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid to make a mistake and push this too far.” Disappointment sat heavy on her face, however, and her mouth downturned. He reached for her. “Hey, come here.” Taking hold of her shirt, he pulled it away and set it at his side. He encircled her waist with his hands. “You are so very beautiful, and I can’t believe of all the men in the universe, you want me. Everything in me wants to take advantage of that, wants to lay you down right here and satisfy desire, but that is reserved for my wife.” Her expression changed to a more thoughtful one. She ran her fingers through his hair, a decidedly exotic feeling. “Your wife will be the luckiest woman alive, maybe someday I’ll tell her that.” He smiled crookedly. “Maybe someday I’ll tell her that myself and finish what’s been started.” She lowered her face to his and kissed him. “She’ll like that.”

Trouble came in spades in her life. Crawling into bed around midnight, her mind caught up in thoughts of Austin, Eden lay there until one a.m. before drifting asleep. It couldn’t have been but a few minutes when her car alarm awakened her. She was quicker to respond this time, crashing into Adam in the hall. They dashed out the front door together and screeched to a halt at the sight of her damaged vehicle. Blue moonlight glinted off the busted windshield, as well as over slashed tires and keyed paint. Her car was a disaster. Adam exploded. “That’s it! You are not going back to that school.” But where this made him want her to withdraw, it settled something inside her heart. She couldn’t give up, couldn’t allow whoever was trying to drive her away to succeed. “Adam, that’s enough,” she said. He silenced, and she made no other remark but returned inside and called the police. Hanging up the phone, she faced him in the living room. “I am not quitting my job, not for you or Mama or some hoodlum who has nothing better to do with his time than damage my things. I’m sick of being run over. I’m tired of you getting mad because something in my life doesn’t fit the pattern you want for me. This is my life. Mine, Adam. I’m perfectly safe at that school. I’m making friends. I have the best man ever at my side, and one day at a time, I’m overcoming everything that brought me here.” The mention of what brought her here changed Adam’s stance. He approached and took her hands. “What brought you here?” She shoved aside the old indecision, the fear that clawed at her. Austin lived his life in the open, therefore so would she. But she wouldn’t tell the story separate from her parents. They deserved to know as badly he did. “Saturday,” she said. “Austin and I have talked, and I’m going to tell everything on Saturday.” “So he knows? You’d tell him and not your family?” “I didn’t tell him so much as he figured it out, most of it anyway. He’s the one who has encouraged me to speak the truth. But I want Mama and Daddy to be

there. Please understand that.” Adam nodded. “Okay, but promise me you’re all right.” “I’m fine. Better than fine. I love my job. I love living here, and I’m falling in love.” A smile crept onto his face. “I can see that last one. I’m surprised you came home tonight.” Eden pulled away and dropped onto the couch. “Staci said the same thing to me. But I’ve found that the greatest strength a person can have comes from inside. Austin Lowell is the strongest man I know ... in here.” She tapped her breastbone. “That means the world to me.” “When did you grow up?” Adam asked. She laughed lightly. “Last week, I think.” “Promise me you’ll be careful,” he said. “You don’t know who’s doing this or how far they’ll go.” No, she didn’t, but they hadn’t left anything of hers to damage past the classroom itself. Surely, they wouldn’t go that far. But the next morning, standing at Austin’s side in the doorway of her classroom, she realized they had. The room was completely trashed, books shredded, papers scattered across the floor, and foul epithets written on the walls. “How?” she asked. “No one knows. The door lock was jimmied, but it could have simply not been closed tight. Tracy said that happened once before.” They’d arrived together and found Amelia and Tracy in the hallway in a dither. Someone had made a destructive trail down the hall and up the stairs. Walking at Austin’s side, her stomach had knotted more and more until sight of her open classroom door and the mess inside wasn’t so much a surprise as a foregone conclusion.

Eden stepped across the disorder to her desk. They’d ruined everything. Her chair was cut, padding poking out. The drawers were opened and dumped in the floor. Her calendar lay in pieces. She scooped up a few items and dumped them in the garbage can. “How do I go on from this?” Austin came up behind and pulled her into his arms. “The school will report it, and we’ll all band together to clean up. Amelia says to route your students to the empty classroom two doors down.” She nodded. “I told Adam I wasn’t giving up.” She changed her gaze from the disorder to Austin’s face. “I’m not giving up.” Austin smiled. “Good.” “I also told him Saturday I was going to talk to everyone.” Austin’s smile became more tentative. “How did he take it?” “Good, actually. He said it was time.” She detached herself. “I have you to thank.” He gripped her shoulder then and spun her around. “You have yourself to thank. It takes courage to tell those you love when you’ve had a problem. I calling my mom and spilling my guts. Figuratively.” He smiled at those words. “I bawled like a baby.” “What did she do?” “Hold me as best she could over the phone, and tell me things would be all right, to take each day one step at a time. So I did, but the hardest part of all was finding hope, forming an image of me as a healthy and strong man.” Her mouth turned up. “You succeeded at that.” He laughed once and ran a finger down her cheek. “Nothing compares to how I feel now with you in my life.” Eden reached up and captured his hand in her own. She understood. Words

seemed inadequate for what he meant to her, what he’d helped her to face, and what she could possibly become. Students’ voices came down the hall, and she turned. “Well, if I can find a piece of paper to hang on the door, I need to make a sign. And where did they put the tape dispenser? Somehow, I have to do classes today. Looks like this mess will have to wait for the police, again, and this afternoon for clean-up.”

“Hey, there, Coach, heard your girlfriend’s become a target.” Austin looked up at Gus, hanging over the desk. “Seems that way. You heard anything else?” Gus nodded. “It’s why I’m here.” Austin dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair. “Speak then.” He eyed the few students already trickling into class. Gus lowered the volume of his voice. “Guess you’ve heard they have video in the office?” Austin nodded. Video of two people in jeans and hoodies. You can’t tell if they’re male or female, black, white, or Asian. Nothing. “Well, word has it those two aren’t who we think they are.” “Exactly what does that mean?” Austin asked. “Who do we think they are?” Gus seated himself on the corner of the desk. “Everett Jenkins, for one.” Everett. He’d been released into his mother’s custody but banned from the school. Everett was the most likely suspect. First of all, he had friends with equally destructive tendencies. Secondly, he had a grudge against her. “Any word on Amberlin?” Gus asked. Austin exhaled a puff of air. “She’s at home, recovering.” Which seemed a crass way to put it. How did you recover from that at her age? “Kids these days,” Gus said. An influx of students brought Gus to his feet. “I won’t stay in your way here. Just wanted you to know. We on for practice after?” Austin nodded. “Yes, but can you get things started? I promised Eden I’d help fix her room.” Gus smiled a smarmy grin. “Mmhmm. You’ll fix her right up. Can’t say as I blame you.” With that he was gone.

Austin picked up his pen and returned to grading papers. However, Joe’s presence in the room moments later stopped his work once more. Joe signaled the direction of the hallway with his chin, and Austin rose, weighting down the schoolwork in front of him with a book. “What’s up?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Saw Gus in here,” Joe said, “and thought I’d warn you.” “Warn me?” Joe glanced up and down the rapidly emptying hall. “Yeah. Grapevine says he’s not on the up and up.” “Gus?” Austin’s eyebrows shot up. In all his time working with Gus, he’d found him to be loud but harmless. “What grapevine are you listening to anyhow?” Joe made an annoyed face. “I have ways of finding things out, and my people say he’s after your coaching job.” “I’m not threatened by Gus,” Austin returned. “I think I’m pretty secure.” “Didn’t say you weren’t,” Joe replied. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t make things hard for you. With Miss Riske, for one.” “I’m not worried about that either.” Joe grinned and shook his head. “Nor I. She’s enamored of you.” Austin made no comment to that. His private life was just that, private. Joe’s grin lowered to a look of concern. “You do know I’m your friend in this. Right?” Austin patted his shoulder. “Of course, and thanks for the heads up. But I’ll be okay. Now, I’ve got a class to teach.” Joe nodded and stepped away but stopped and turned a few steps later. “She doing good?” He glanced toward Eden’s locked classroom. Austin waved him on. “Fine. Go.” He stood there a moment, watching Joe walk

away, then returned to his desk. But his mind wasn’t in it now. Between talk of Eden, Gus’s statements, and now, Joe’s thoughts about Gus, too much roamed in his brain. He gave a soft snort. He refused to believe Gus was after his job. He’d worked with him too long, and Gus was extremely transparent. But that left him wondering about Joe. He and Joe had been close as well, and he trusted Joe. So why would Joe make such remarks? He had nothing to gain. There was also the mystery of who kept going after Eden. A cold chill crept up his spine. If whoever this was would go to such great lengths, then who knew what else they’d try? He couldn’t stand the thought of her not being safe. Nor could he follow her around. She was finally facing up to things, finally standing on her own two feet, and he owed it to her to give confidence in her abilities. Yet his confidence in her didn’t mean he lacked concern over the threats. Vandalism was one thing. Breaking into the school was more serious. This all seemed to be escalating. To what? What exactly came next, and what could he do to protect her? The bell ringing brought him out of a trance and to his feet. History. She was safe for now and he had class to teach.

CHAPTER 11 The bombshells kept coming. First, Adam’s house was vandalized, then her car and her classroom were destroyed. The next one was relatively harmless but affected her classes for the rest of the day and on into Thursday. Someone in the student population got hold of her magazine spreads, photocopied them, and ed them out. If she’d felt like a target before, if she’d thought there’d already been suggestive comments at the start, there were plenty now, for sure. She did her best to concentrate on classwork, but was frustrated, and as a result, gave the students probably more homework than they deserved. Come Thursday night, she was ready for the weekend. Even Saturday’s dinner couldn’t dampen her enthusiasm for time off. She and Austin managed a few hours together after football and cheerleading practice. He’d seen the photos. But, true to being himself, did more to build her up than anything else. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “Now, the whole world knows that.” She walked into the school on Friday, praying for one day of relief from all the trouble. She could well imagine the police were tired of seeing her face, and Amelia Fischer was tired of dealing with the fall out of the vandalism and now, also that of her photos going around. There’d been some parental complaints as well, and subsequently, reassurance given that all of that was in her past. Amelia reassured them she was well-qualified, and the school was taking appropriate measures to stifle it all. Yet walking down the long hallway toward the stairwell, she felt even more exposed than usual. What had seemed so innocent at the time had blown up in her face. C’mon, Baby, show the world how gorgeous you are, the magazine exec had said. Smooth lines to a girl without a clue how damaging it would be. Show me some skin. Let’s see those breasts. She hadn’t done that at least. Her seductive poses were bad enough without the trouble anything more would have created.

Her schoolbag slipped on her shoulder, and she adjusted it, at the same time taking hold of the stairwell door. She’d gotten her car fixed, or rather, Staci had tended to it. It looked worse for wear, but at least, it drove. Adam had insisted she park in the garage overnight and installed outdoor lighting after he got off work. It’d been difficult to sleep with the brightness, but she’d felt more secure. She frowned. Even her family was affected by her past. Why hadn’t she considered that? But, no, she’d blown it off. This is my life. It’s only a few pictures. I might as well make money off of what God’s given me. Selfish. Vain. Worth nothing. Nothing in light of self-respect. Her hand on the rail, Eden continued her steps upward, her shoes making clipping noises on the stairs. On the landing between floors, the second-floor door opened and clunked closed. She paid no attention to it. People used this stairwell all the time. However, a few steps later, a figure appeared in her path. Jeans. Black hoodie. She froze. The figure appeared to hesitate, then continued in her direction. “Who are you?” she asked, her stomach churning. The person gave no response. Average height, perhaps five foot nine or ten, and masculine. But the hoodie was bulky, so she could be wrong. He also had his head slanted to hide his face. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Please. I just want to do my job.” His fists clenched. White skin, so not Everett Jenkins. And aged, older looking. But that made no sense. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to upset you,” she said. In that moment, the unknown man made a choice. Thrusting his hands outward, he gave her a shove. Her heels slipped on the concrete floor, and with a shriek, she tumbled backward. Yet, the soft material of the hoodie caught in her grasp, the weight of her fall yanked it off the person’s head.

She landed with a thud, sliding helpless into a heap at the bottom. Sharp pain spiked up her spine into her neck. The first-floor door opened and closed, and she laid there, stunned. The pain intensified, and she gave a cry. Why? Why had he done it? Of all the people that could have caused trouble, she’d never thought he’d be the one. She tried to shift herself, but the pain was too much. No. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. She wouldn’t go back there, wouldn’t return to the horror of drugs, pills, and addiction. No matter how badly it hurt. The tears came, and she gave into them, sobs shaking her frame. Why wouldn’t life let her move on? But again and again, it came back to remind her how low she’d fallen, how many mistakes she’d made, how inept, inefficient and incompetent Eden Riske was compared to everyone else. The first-floor door opened, and a voice shouted. “Miss Riske?” Falling onto her knees at Eden’s head, her student, Lauren leaned over. “What happened?” Eden sucked in a breath, tears heavy in her voice. “Austin, please. Please find Austin. I can’t get up.” “I’m going. I’ll be back. I promise.” The girl stood and raced up the stairs.

Eden tightened her grip on Austin’s hand to endure the pain. However, he had to release her and step back so the EMTs could fit the backboard into the small space. The slightest shift of her body made her screech. “Miss Riske, is it?” a friendly EMT asked. “We’ll take care of you.” The EMTs face disappeared, and she flung an arm out for Austin. He took it briefly then released it again. The EMTs lifted the backboard and toted her into the hall, setting it atop a rolling gurney. Austin’s voice mingled with Amelia’s and the students gathered around. Then a word shot through her worse than anything else. Hydrocodone. “No,” she said. “No hydrocodone. I was addicted. Please.” She didn’t care who heard. She wouldn’t go back there. The gurney rolled forward, out the doors, and across the concrete to the back of the ambulance. The EMT who’d spoken to her entered and sat at her head. “Austin?” “I’m here,” he said. He took her hand. “Your classes.” “Amelia will tend to it.” She reached her other hand out and grasped the EMTs sleeve. “No pain meds. I was addicted. I won’t do that again.” The wail of the siren cut into her words, and the rock of the ambulance as it got underway. “We can try cortisone,” the EMT said. “How bad was the abuse?” She shut her eyes. “Bad. Thousands of dollars. I’ll stand the pain. Just don’t give me that stuff again.” Austin’s hand warmed in hers, and he leaned forward. His kind expression sent

her weeping again. She gave into her grief, the pain and heartache of this awful week washing over her. But then the face beneath the hoodie returned. “Austin, I saw him. He pushed me.” “Pushed you?” In all the rush of concern and the scramble for help, she hadn’t had a chance to speak, couldn’t speak for the pain. “Who pushed you?” Austin asked. “Joe.” Austin’s face washed white, and his grip on her tightened. “Joe? Why would Joe push you?” She gasped in pain and replied through gritted her teeth. “I don’t know. He showed up out of nowhere, wearing a hoodie, and pushed me. But I saw his face as I fell. You have to stop him. Tell someone.” He clasped her hand in his. “I will, but you come first.” “Oh, God,” she cried. “I can’t do this again. I can’t. It’ll be like last time, and my life will be ruined. I just wanted to start over, just wanted ...” “Shh. No, it won’t. You have me.” She drank in his loving gaze. “Austin?” “Yes?” “I love you.” He raised her hand to his lips, but his lack of response riffled through her. He didn’t say it back. Why? Didn’t he love her? “You didn’t say it,” she whispered, but her voice was slurred, and her eyes became heavy. “Sleep,” he said from somewhere above.

“No dr ... drugs,” she mumbled, and darkness descended.

They wheeled Eden in the hospital through a pair of swinging doors, leaving him standing adrift in the middle of the busy waiting room. Other patients, their family , and hospital staff moved around him, so much water in the stream. He moved eventually, selecting a well-used chair set in with a group of matching ones around a small square table. His phone lay lifeless in his hand. He should call her brother, somehow. Except he’d be at work, and Austin had no idea where that is. Amelia would tend to it. He could call her and make sure she did. But that wasn’t what was bothering him. He couldn’t believe Joe had done it. But she’d said he did, so it must be true. Why? Why would a guy with a secure job, friends, a stable life, choose to harm someone? A stable life. Maybe Joe’s life wasn’t as stable as they’d thought. Obviously, it wasn’t because he’d done this. Yet it was out of character. Wasn’t it? Austin gazed down at his phone and flipping through his s, dialed a number. The phone rang and rang and rang. The voicemail picked up. Joe wasn’t answering. What did that mean? Had he left the school? Was he up to something else? A new thought entered. Who was the second person to do the vandalism? If Joe had been behind it, that would explain the lock not being broken. Joe had a key to the school. He could have easily gotten a key to Eden’s classroom as well. But still, the video had shown he wasn’t alone. He exhaled and squeezed the sides of his head. That wasn’t what was bothering him either. No, what bothered him was he’d failed to give her three small words. I love you. She’d said it and meant it. Why hadn’t he reciprocated? Truthfully, it had floored him to hear it spoken. A woman as rare and priceless as she was, and she’d fallen in love with him? Self-doubt reared its ugly head again, and he quashed it. Why not him? Had he let his addiction alter his own opinion of himself? He should be able to believe he was eligible, likeable enough. Plus, this was what he’d wanted. “Fool,” he mumbled. He was such a fool. He’d lived every minute of every day

with her in his mind. He’d loved her showing up at his door unannounced and hadn’t wanted her to leave. They had a bond, and it was greater than sexual tension, though they had that, too. What they had was more than shared experiences, it was ... what? Love. If she was in love with him, then he was in love with her. Had been really the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. But love like that, as badly as he’d wanted it, scared him near to death. Not the commitment of it. He was ready to have a woman in his life, someone to walk by his side. Not the reliance of it. She leaned on him, and he could handle that. No, it was the power that scared him. The power it held to influence his thoughts and emotions exactly like alcohol had done. But he couldn’t go through life always being the one in control. The same addiction that gave him this reluctance had taught him that. There had come a point in his recovery when he’d had to take a step ahead into the unknown and trust God to work things out. God. He’d never been particularly religious. Not been as faithful to church as he should be. But belief in something stronger than him had helped him get his life back. His phone rang and he lifted it to his ear. “Hello? Oh, hey, Amelia. Yeah, they took her in. I don’t know anything. I was going to call you. Listen, we have a serious situation. Eden says Joe pushed her. Yeah, Joe. I can’t believe it either. I’m tied up here, but someone has to find him. Wait, before you go. If Joe’s behind the trouble, he didn’t work alone.” Austin exhaled. “I don’t know. Maybe only Joe does. Yeah, I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything. Hey, have you called her brother? I don’t have the number. You did? Good. Bye.” His arm fell back into his lap, and he twisted around, his gaze on the double doors. Standing to his feet, he wandered to the nurses’ station. “Hey, I came in with Eden Riske.” The nurse stared at him blank. “The woman they just wheeled through. Is she ... okay?” “Are you family?” she asked. Austin paused. “I’m her boyfriend. I love her.”

Eden blinked bleary-eyed at the face leaning over her. It fuzzed and cleared several times before the contour, the steady gaze, became familiar. “Hey, sis.” She licked parched lips and grunted. “A-dam?” “Yeah, it’s me.” He took her hand, his grip soft and warm. “Had to go and get yourself in a mess. Huh?” She nodded and shut her eyes. A mess. The images returned, falling down the stairs, landing at the bottom. Why? Why had she fallen? Joe pushed her. “Austin?” She reopened her eyes. “Went for coffee. He’ll be back. Mom’s coming. She and Dad will be here later this evening.” This evening. What evening? “What ... day is it?” she asked. “Saturday. You’ve been sleeping.” Saturday? So she’d slept through Friday. She made to move, but Adam laid a hand on her chest. “No, don’t. You reinjured your back.” His choice of words spun her gaze wide. “Why didn’t you tell someone? The doctor says you’d done a number on it before, something that probably had you laid up for weeks. Eden ...” She drew in a shaky breath. “No one knew who to call, and by the time I came to, it’d been days. Plus ...” Tears burned behind her eyes. Not like this. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to reveal it, but it’d sat inside her so long, so very long. “Plus what? I love you. You can tell me anything.”

“The pills,” she said. “I was addicted.” Worry sat heavy on his countenance, in the weight of his eyes and the wrinkle on his brow. “Badly addicted. All that money you wired me? I blew it buying drugs. Skipped classes. Failed out of a couple.” “Why?” His voice rose. “You didn’t have to deal with that alone.” “I thought I did. I thought telling would ruin me in everyone’s eyes. I was washed up. I couldn’t do modeling because I wouldn’t go far enough, and I ...” “Wouldn’t go far enough?” She silenced for a moment. He didn’t know about that either. “I quit because the photographer wanted to sleep with me. I refused.” “Oh, gees ...” Adam hung his head over the mattress. “This is my failure. I should have stopped you, should have ...” “No.” Extending a weary arm, she patted his cheek. He raised his head. “I’m responsible for my behavior. No one else. I quit modeling, and I’m glad. After the addiction, I put myself into a clinic and got free. Then I did what you’d all sent me there for, I graduated. Had to work a couple low-paying jobs for the cash because I wasn’t about to ask any of you. But I accomplished it. All I wanted afterward was to come home. That’s why I asked you to all stay. The ceremony, the glamour of it all, meant nothing compared to what I had in here.” She pointed to her chest. “I saw the job at Edgemont and thought it was my way back to normal, but I knew I’d have to fight all of you to do it, so I kept it to myself.” “It’s put you here,” he said. “The job did not put me here. A person did. And another one has helped me find my way out.” Adam smiled. “We talked, me and him.” “You did?”

“Yes. He told me about his alcoholism, and I didn’t understand why he’d bother to until now. That’s what you meant when you said he knew.” She shifted her head on the pillow. “Yes. He knew I was an addict because he’d been one. Eventually, I couldn’t hide it from him anymore, so I told the truth. He’s helped me see I’m a capable person, someone with value, and I’d lost that.” “That’s not all we talked about,” Adam said. His smile took on a teasing curve. “Oh? What else?” “You.” Warmth spread across her skin to her face. Adam laughed. “You’re red as a beet.” “I’m not.” But she knew she was. She sighed. “I’m a terrible liar.” He leaned over the bed and kissed her cheek. “You are, always have been, but I love you anyway, and I think ...” Movement at the door interrupted him. He ran a hand over her head and stepped away. “I think Mr. Lowell has something to say to you.” Adam left the room, and her gaze rested on Austin’s face. He came around the bed and settled at her side. “Hello, Beautiful.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Hey. I told him.” “Good.” Austin took her hand in his. “It wasn’t that hard. Was it?” “No, and I feel lighter. Austin, I shouldn’t have said ...” “Hush. Like your brother said, I have something to say, so let me say it.” She quieted. “I needed you in my life to show me how reserved I’d become. Nothing wrong

with that except I think I’ve let it hold me back. I was offered a college professorship a couple years ago, and I actually turned it down.” Surprised, she opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. She’d let him finish first. “I don’t know if I should have taken it or not, but my point is, I didn’t want to do anything outside of the ritual I’d made for myself. But then, you came along, and life or circumstances or maybe it was God kept putting us together.” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “You said something to me in the ambulance that, once again, made me think, and I have a confession to make. I didn’t say it back because I was afraid. I was afraid to love you because it feels so much like the addiction I’d recovered from.” “You don’t have to ...” “No, I do. Because this love is stronger than I am, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop it from affecting me. Not anymore.” He raised her hand to his lips, then curled their fingers together. “It’s been, what? Two weeks?” She nodded. “Thereabouts.” “Two weeks and I’m as sure of this as I know my name. The rest of ‘us’ ...” He signaled between them. “Will probably take me longer to figure out. We have time, after all. But how I feel about you is a done deal.” He tilted his head and that shock of hair that always fell out of place descended between his eyes. “I love you, Eden, with everything in me.” Her sob cut into the moment. Shoulders shaking, she released her emotions in her tears. Then she saw his face and ran her fingers beneath her eyes. He was obviously confused. Her sob turned into a laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s all so much. You’re the most wonderful man on the planet. What did I ever do to deserve that?” He smiled. “You came home.”

CHAPTER 12 Two Weeks Later “Mr. Lowell.” Amelia waved him to a chair in her office. “Glad you could find time in your busy schedule for the little people.” He grinned. “You’re never the ‘little people.’ You know that.” “Feels like it.” Her serious expression gave way to a laugh. “I’m happy for you, actually. Love looks good on your face.” He made no response to that. It did good to his heart as well. “Wanted to let you know about Joe.” Austin’s brief elation faded. “He refuses to say who helped him, but your sidekick, Mr. Rouse, has ferreted it out. I have to say, I am shocked.” Austin crossed his right leg over his left knee. Joe’s jealousy of him had been the cause of his behavior. It was too much, he’d said, when Austin spoke with him. You get everything, the girl, the job. He’d gone out of his way to make it look like Everett’s doing. That had played right into his hands. He’d even thrown suspicion on Gus. Amelia gave a whistle, and Austin shook himself. “Sorry, I was thinking about Joe. I still sometimes can’t believe it.” She nodded. “He was a lonely sort. Couldn’t get a date. Even tried one of those online dating services once, he told me. But nothing came of it. You can’t hold yourself responsible though.” He didn’t, not really. Except for how it’d hurt Eden. “So who was it?” he asked.

She pressed her lips into a line. “Mark Raines.” “Mark?” Austin’s foot dropped to the floor. “Why?” Amelia tented her fingers. “Apparently, Joe convinced him to do it to get Amberlin back. Said it’d make Everett look guilty, and she’d return to him.” “Ugh.” Austin slanted his head back on the chair. “He was such a good kid with so much possibility.” He jerked upright again. “He wanted to take Everett’s position, and I refused.” Amelia waved a hand outward. “Again, do not blame yourself. He was misled, but they were his own choices. Do you know ...” She paused briefly. “Joe never intended to push her down the stairs. He’d been in her room causing trouble again only he waited too late. Then when faced with her in the hall, he couldn’t figure out how to get away.” Austin exhaled. “I’ll never get over him hurting her. Never.” “How is she?” Austin’s smile returned. “Better. Her mom, I think, is driving her insane. Last night she didn’t speak one word in English.” Amelia laughed. “She gets that way, but she told me she likes you.” “Good thing.” He shook his head. “The brother was one hurdle, the mom another.” “Well ...” Amelia sat forward in her chair. “Eden’s job is here when she’s able to return. The sub is working well, but the kids say they miss her. Funny, she made such an impact in only a handful of days.” “On me, too.” Amelia’s laughter returned. “On you especially. You working on your dance steps?” He chuckled. “For Adam and Staci’s wedding? I lucked out. Eden says she may walk into the chapel by then, but no way she’s dancing. Two weeks just isn’t

long enough. You?” Amelia flicked her wrist. “I, Mr. Lowell, plan on taking me a good spin around the floor. Mr. Fischer’s quite a dancer, you know.” Austin bobbed his head. “So I’ve heard. So I’ve heard.”

One Year, Two Months Later The crowd in the ballroom dispersed to all sides of the dance floor. Girls in light airy, purple dresses floated around on the arms of well-dressed teens. A line of stragglers, waiting for a second piece of cake, held plastic forks at the ready. The band in place at the end of the room took up a new tune, and a people switched hands to dance with this one or that one instead. Austin glanced around the sides of the room where his family and hers milled. “What do you say we sneak out?” He twirled his new wife around the dance floor, her hand clasped tightly in his. “Of our own wedding?” Eden pulled her head back from its resting place on his chest. He smirked. “They won’t miss us.” “But your family came all this way.” He made another turn, and her skirt swept the floor tiles of the large room. “They’re not paying attention to us,” he said. “See Uncle Harry there?” He nodded his head. “The old man in the plaid pants?” she asked. “The very one. He’s trying to why he’s here.” Eden snickered and sought to muffle it on his shoulder. “And Aunt Edith ...” “The woman beside him?” He nodded. “Yes, the one with purple hair. She’s talking to Aunt Betty about what beautiful babies we’ll make.” “Babies?” Her eyes widened. “Are we doing that already?”

He grinned at her. “It’s the doing part that I want to get to.” Eden dug her fingers into his coat. “You! You’ve waited all this time, and now you get impatient?” “Can you blame me? Like you said, I waited all this time.” Eden turned her head outward. “What about your mother? What’s she thinking?” “That one’s easy,” he replied. “She’s blissfully happy her son married someone at all.” “And your dad?” Austin deepened his voice. “Can I get another piece of cake?” Eden giggled and fell back against him. “I’ve never seen you like this.” “Like this, happy?” She sighed. “Happy. Am I really your wife?” He laid his cheek atop her head. “You really are. Which brings me back to getting out of here ...” “We are not ‘getting out of here’,” she fussed. “I want to enjoy every last minute.” “Miss Riske? I mean Missus Lowell?” came a young male voice at their side. Austin stopped in place, and Eden lifted her head. “Ricky? Look at you, all dressed up.” He smiled. “Yes, ma’am, for you ... a-and Mr. Lowell here. I ... not meaning to butt in, but some of us boys ... we thought maybe ... maybe you’d dance with us?” Austin suppressed a smile and glanced past Ricky to the line-up of students on the fringe of the floor. Did the entire school turn out? At least the male portion of it.

“Of course, I will. Each and every one. Mr. Lowell doesn’t mind. He was just telling me how much fun he’s having.” Eden stepped away, taking the boy’s hands. Finding himself free, Austin drifted to the side and ed his brother at the edge of the dance floor. “You gave her up, huh?” his brother said. “By force. All of Edgemont wants to dance with her.” “Can’t blame them. Man, if I’d been here, you’d been out of luck.” Austin punched his brother in the shoulder. His brother winced and laughed. “Ow! Watch it. I’m not as tough as you.” He clenched one hand over the impact spot. Austin shifted his feet back and forth and balled and released his fists. “Gees, you’re jittery,” his brother said. “What’s up with you?” “I want out. Out. I want her all to myself.” His brother shook his head. “Man, I can’t believe it. You were always the one mom could count on to wait for things.” “Yes, well, I don’t want to wait now. I want seven days of complete bliss with my wife.” “I only hope you come up for air.” Austin shook his head. “Nope. I plan on never seeing if the sun rises or falls.” His brother guffawed and the punch cup shook in his hand, sloshing pink liquid over the side. “Look at what you made me do.” He shook his sodden hand over the tile. “You get all hard up and the rest of us have to pay.” “Hey, watch it. Ladies present.” Austin glanced behind him into Staci Riske’s face. She smiled wide beneath her

froth of yellow curls. “Oh, it’s you,” he teased. Strolling to his side, she squeezed one of his arms with her left hand. Her eyes spread wide. “Wow. Eden said you were buff. I think I’m jealous.” He chuckled. “If I’d found you before Adam, I might have thought twice,” she said. He took her hand in his. “I doubt that. He’s as beautiful as she is.” She sighed. “Yes, he is.” “Spoken like a woman in love.” Her smile refastened itself on her face. “So tell me, what gets you away from him?” he asked. “You’re spreading your good news?” He glanced down at her still flattened waist. She followed his gaze. “Oh, no. We’re keeping that a secret until you get back. I will have my own moment without competing with all the beautiful people.” He draped an arm around her shoulders. “You deserve a moment. I’m happy for you. But back to why you’re here.” “I am here,” she began, “because Adam, Katerina, and Amelia Fischer are babbling in Russian, and I have no idea what they’re saying. I couldn’t take another minute of it and so decided you looked lonely.” “Lonely and heartbroken,” he said. “Mmm, I can see you’re sharing her with every teenage male in the place.” “Gotta keep them happy.” Austin glanced across the dance floor where Eden’s brother, her mother, and Amelia Fischer were in deep discourse. “Where’s her dad?” he asked. “You didn’t want to talk to him?” “He isn’t much of a talker,” Staci said. “I think it comes from spending so many

years with his wife who couldn’t speak English. He seems happiest to simply sit and stare.” “I tell you what.” Austin took Staci’s hand again. “You have no spouse, and apparently, I have no spouse, for what looks like the rest of the evening, so how about you and I ...” “Oh, mama,” Staci said. “I thought you’d never ask. And let’s be sure to dance right past the camera person because I want proof I was in Austin Lowell’s mighty arms.” With a laugh, he swept her to him and onto the dance floor. The End

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalog of stories, visit www.feelgoodromance.com or www.suzannedwilliams.com or link with her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor or on Twitter at @SDWAuthor.

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