Книга - Making It Right

Making It Right
Kathy Altman


She’s changed. But will he believe her?Kerry Endicott has a lot of apologizing to do. Still, returning to a community that sees her as a thief is harder than she expected. How can she find an apartment, let alone a job in Castle Creek if nobody trusts her? That’s why it’s such a relief when, finally, someone looks at her with something other than suspicion. It might just be lust, but Gil Cooper really seems to see Kerry. And the sexy nerd thing he has going on doesn’t hurt. But her reputation here runs deep, and Gil might not be as immune to it as he seems…







She’s changed. But will he believe her?

Kerry Endicott has a lot of apologizing to do. Still, returning to a community that sees her as a thief is harder than she expected. How can she find an apartment, let alone a job in Castle Creek if nobody trusts her? That’s why it’s such a relief when, finally, someone looks at her with something other than suspicion. It might just be lust, but Gil Cooper really seems to see Kerry. And the sexy nerd thing he has going on doesn’t hurt. But her reputation here runs deep, and Gil might not be as immune to it as he seems...


“I need your hands on me,” Gil said and dropped his mouth to hers.

Finally.

He kissed her deeply, earnestly, stealing her breath along with coherent thought. He tasted like malt and smelled like early morning on the lake and every last one of her nerve endings writhed with need.

And warning.

Kerry ripped her mouth away from his and took deep, gulping inhales. “Are we really doing this?”

Gil shuddered as he fought to catch his own breath. He swallowed then rested his chin on the crown of her head.

“Yes?” he said hopefully.

Her nerves jangled with anticipation. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He ran a hand through his hair and it gave her pause. He looked younger without his glasses. Or maybe she was feeling older. Having a sense of adventure used to be so much more appealing.

A year ago she’d learned how terrifying the consequences could be.


Dear Reader (#u63952ec0-6de5-5618-842e-d38bfcf31368),

I’m thrilled to welcome you back to Castle Creek! At long last I give hardware store owner Gil Cooper his happy-ever-after, but of course I make him work for it. When Gil meets enigmatic bartender Kerry Endicott, who’s only in town long enough to make things right with her estranged father, they instantly hit it off. Then Gil discovers Kerry is a former felon, and he has a hard time seeing the good-hearted person behind the mistakes. There’s nothing I enjoy more than showing a hero how wrong he is, and I’ve always had a soft spot for stubborn heroines. I hope you find something in Kerry and Gil’s story that resonates with you, too!

I have to say, this was a tough book to finish. It’s the final book in my Castle Creek series, and it’s also my final Superromance, since the line will be discontinued in June 2018. I’ll miss Superromance like mad, not only because of all the amazing books I’ve enjoyed over the years, but because of the brilliant editing team who dedicated their whole hearts to the line. They’re incredibly clever and creative, and so very generous with their story savvy. On top of that, they’re truly lovely people. I wish Victoria Curran, Megan Long, Karen Reid, Piya Campana and Birgit Davis-Todd the absolute, very best. Writing romance will not be the same without them.

Here’s to Happy-Ever-Afters.

Hugs,

Kathy


Making It Right

Kathy Altman






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


KATHY ALTMAN writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense and the occasional ode to chocolate. She’s also a regular contributor to USATODAY.com’s Happy Ever After blog. Kathy prefers her chocolate with nuts, her Friday afternoons with wine and her love stories with happy-ever-afters. Find Kathy online at www.kathyaltman.com (http://www.kathyaltman.com). She’d enjoy hearing from you!


To Suzanne Cox, Barbara Kopsic and Dolores Minter, a super-sweet, super-supportive trio of reader friends. Many thanks, you gorgeous girls, for all the trips you’ve taken to Castle Creek!


Acknowledgments (#u63952ec0-6de5-5618-842e-d38bfcf31368)

Heartfelt thanks go to critique partners Toni Anderson and Robin Allen, whom I cherish for many reasons but mostly because they inspire me to do better; to my editor Claire Caldwell, who is staggeringly clever and gracious; to the treasured readers who value happy-ever-afters as much as I do; and to my family, who couldn’t be more supportive if they tried. (Well, my mother could—how about letting me win a Scrabble game every now and then, Mom, hmm?)

Much love to you all!


Contents

Cover (#u77e01793-aed5-5764-a7f3-98e45703b3b9)

Back Cover Text (#ucdf236a2-671f-5a74-b37d-019061de1e5b)

Introduction (#ufc78a7ab-4a2a-52e2-b97b-b4914547e80f)

Dear Reader (#ub46bdc31-06c4-5fe3-8ab5-9fc3aeef61b5)

Title Page (#ua0a46e15-81ef-561e-b701-7406c9eaae70)

About the Author (#u6d1cf882-af75-55f1-90f4-d2f1c74b54ae)

Dedication (#u48474b9a-fef7-5d7c-b511-14bab8e41ad9)

Acknowledgments (#ued9db2a6-6c12-56a6-9e6d-c88d9ff2d7a7)

CHAPTER ONE (#udf73c781-68e5-5eb9-90b3-2855955fb6f8)

CHAPTER TWO (#ua48b4952-68b5-5760-a187-b8c66616d762)

CHAPTER THREE (#u663a39a5-f6bb-5872-a9ed-ad91029fc72a)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u3d1c0087-b0f3-57be-aac1-6c686c74b5b7)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u63952ec0-6de5-5618-842e-d38bfcf31368)

“THAT’S FAR ENOUGH.”

Kerry Endicott lifted her gaze from the graveled path and stared into the scowling face of the man she’d traveled five hundred miles to see.

“You need to leave,” he continued, his tone curt. “Now.”

The man who obviously had no interest in seeing her.

Even after all this time.

After all she’d been through.

A cold, quiet curl of hurt lodged in her chest. But what did she expect, after what she’d done?

Kerry drew in a slow breath and gazed mutely over his shoulder, at a trio of Quonset huts. Shadowed rows of hanging baskets inside each plastic-wrapped structure accounted for the rich odor of damp earth delivered by a teasing April breeze. Weathered outbuildings and shrubs with spindly arms bowed by the weight of sunshine-yellow blooms dotted the property around the huts. To the right of the driveway, at the crest of a long, gentle slope, sat a two-story farmhouse, its plain white exterior brightened by apricot shutters. To the left, the backdrop of feathery pines gave way to vivid green Pennsylvania farmland and a horizontal strip of blue that had to be Lake Erie.

This place—Castle Creek Growers—was much nicer than he’d described. Then again, that last mention had been more than two years ago. They’d talked only once after that, when she’d begged him to visit her. He hadn’t even hemmed and hawed. Just offered a naked no.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said.

He took a hesitant step forward. Kerry held her breath. Then a woman called his name from inside one of the huts and he pushed out his chin and widened his stance, as if prepping to protect the owner of the voice.

From Kerry.

She tightened her grip on the keys in her right hand and a sudden staccato blare made her jump. Her heart flung itself into a slam dance. Car alarm. Chill. Stones skittered as she whirled toward the driveway and fumbled to press the panic button again on her fob.

Finally, silence. An echo pulsed in her ears, but it wasn’t the rhythmic shriek of the alarm.

“You need to leave,” he’d said.

Slowly she turned back to face him. “Dad,” she croaked, half greeting, half protest. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” No response. Her cheeks heated and her eyes burned. “I’ve been driving all day,” she said thickly.

His gray-blue eyes had gone hard. “No one asked you to.”

God. She’d known this would be tough. She just hadn’t expected it to be this tough.

A door slammed. A girl in jeans and a pink sweatshirt clomped down the porch steps. His boss’s daughter? Nicole? No. Natalie. As she jogged around the side of the house, she aimed a curious glance at Kerry.

“You’re late” came the gruff words from Kerry’s father.

The girl’s gaze moved to the older man. “Can’t help it. Mom made muffins. Growing bones and all that. Banana chocolate chip. Too bad I didn’t save you any.” With a smart-alecky grin and one last glance at Kerry, she took off across the yard, toward the nearest Quonset hut, brown hair bouncing on her shoulders.

Harris Briggs’s snort bore more affection than pique. “If she thinks she’s going to eat all the muffins and get out of snail duty, too, she has another think coming.”

“What’s snail duty?”

The indulgence on his face dimmed and his gaze dipped to Kerry’s ankles. He wouldn’t be able to see anything, since the hem of her dark gray pants reached nearly to the toes of her high-heeled boots.

“Been six months already?” he asked, almost idly.

“All things considered, time went a little slower for me.”

He grunted. “I have to get back to work. Anyways, the answer is no.”

She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her light wool jacket to keep from yanking at her hair. “I haven’t asked a question.”

“You didn’t come all this way just to show off your bare ankle. You should have saved your gas money. I’m done opening my wallet for you.”

“I didn’t come to borrow money. I came to return it.”

Her father, a former marine with more hair in his eyebrows than on his head, folded his brawny arms across his chest and waited. Good grief, he looked even more intimidating than she remembered. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

She felt like one, though.

Kerry licked her lips. “I mean, I don’t have the money now. But as soon as I get a job, I’ll be able to pay you back.”

“And you think I can help with that.” His thick brows lowered. “If you’re countin’ on me getting you a job here with the Macfarlands, you’ll be sorely disappointed. Reid’s been through enough, and his wife, Parker? Don’t know what I would do without her. She’s like the—” He stopped.

“The daughter you never had?” Kerry swallowed. This was worse, so much worse than she’d expected. But at least he was talking to her.

Heat swept her cheeks, but she had to ask. “Would it be possible to stay with you? Just until I find my own place.”

“If you’re bent on stayin’, there’s a motel down the road a ways.”

She bit back a sigh. A motel it would be, though she couldn’t afford more than a couple of nights. She’d better find a job quick, or she’d be sleeping in her car.

“But it’d be a hell of a lot easier on everyone concerned,” he continued, “if you just headed on back home and forgot about writin’ a check I won’t ever be able to cash.”

She tipped up her chin. “Easy got me into this mess. I’m not going anywhere.”

Approval was too much to hope for, but anything other than the stark disbelief on his face would have been welcome.

“You got you into this mess. Anyways, what kind of job you thinkin’ you can get in Castle Creek that’d pay enough to get you out of debt?”

She was tempted to tell him she’d be dealing drugs, but he’d probably believe her. “Any job that’s available.”

His face said that yeah, he’d believe her. “Dad.” He flinched yet again. She’d have to find something else to call him. “I’m not the same person I was. That’s why I’m here. To prove that to you.”

“I’m not interested in your money, and I’m sure as hell not interested in your promises.”

“Eugenia, too. I want you to know she’ll get every penny back.”

He paled, and his thick arms dropped to his sides.

Oh, no. “You two aren’t together?”

“Not anymore.”

So it was more than the return of the prodigal daughter that had him looking so miserable. “May I ask what happened?”

His expression soured. “She wanted to invite you to the wedding.”

Kerry sucked in a breath. This wasn’t going to work. Why had she thought this would work? She stumbled in a half circle and started back to the driveway. She’d managed two steps when the voice she’d heard calling her father stopped her.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

Kerry hesitated, then turned slowly back around as the woman added, “Harris? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

A tall, striking redhead in overalls and a long-sleeved plaid shirt almost identical to the one Harris was wearing stood sandwiched between him and the girl who’d run out of the house earlier.

“I’m Parker Macfarland and this is my daughter, Natalie. When Harris here isn’t home practicing his grump face, he’s pretending to help my husband and me run this place. And you are?”

She already knew. Kerry could tell by the chirp in her voice.

“No need to be pokin’ your nose in the pepper patch,” Harris said stiffly.

Parker offered him a lofty eyebrow. “If you’d followed that same advice, I wouldn’t be about to celebrate my second wedding anniversary, now, would I?”

“And I wouldn’t be getting a little brother,” Natalie added.

Kerry’s gaze dropped to Parker’s stomach, but there was no telling what she was hiding behind those baggy overalls.

Parker laughed. “I’m about four months along. Overalls aren’t the most flattering thing to wear, I know, but they’re comfortable. Practical, too. The other night I walked out of the house with a roast beef sub and a dozen chocolate chip cookies stashed behind this bib, and no one had a clue.”

“We knew,” said Natalie smugly.

“You did?”

Her daughter rolled her eyes. “You were looking a little lumpy, Mom. I dared Dad to go up and give you a big, squeezy hug, but he said we shouldn’t keep you from your picnic with The Munchkin.”

Her mother’s eyes went soft. “I see.” She smiled at Kerry and patted her belly. “That’s what we’re calling this little guy until we can agree on something more permanent.” Her gaze sharpened. “And speaking of names...”

Kerry forced her lips into a curve. “I’m Kerry.” She couldn’t manage any more than that. Couldn’t bear to see her father flinch again. “I’m glad to meet you. Congratulations on the baby. And on your home. It’s lovely here.”

“Thank you,” Parker said. “It’s about time you introduced us to your daughter, Harris Briggs.”

“Wait, what?” Natalie swept her bangs out of her eyes and passed a frown from the older man to Kerry and back again. Parker made a sound that was half warning, half distress, but the oblivious teen shook her head in confusion. “You never said anything about a daughter.”

* * *

STARING DOWN THE invoice for sixty seconds straight hadn’t scared it into dropping any zeroes, so Gil Cooper slammed it on top of the stack in the accounts payable tray, also known as IOU oblivion. His elbow jostled his coffee cup and tepid black liquid sloshed onto the arm of his shirt, his open package of peanut butter crackers and the fresh stack of bills he hadn’t had the balls to open yet.

Damn it, he’d already rolled his sleeves up as far as they would go to hide the orange juice stain he’d created that morning. Good thing denim could disguise a lot. Since he took his coffee black, at least he wouldn’t be smelling like French vanilla or butter pecan all damned day. Still, maybe he should consider giving up coffee, like he’d given up his beloved sports channels and his Friday night sirloin. He could avoid stains and save a few more bucks at the grocery store.

Screw that. He picked up his Cap’n Crunch mug and tossed back the rest of the not-so-fresh brew inside. If he gave up coffee he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on scrambling an egg, let alone finding a way to keep Cooper’s Hardware open.

His jaw started to ache and he unlocked his molars.

Besides, he’d only find something else to spill.

Gil picked up the carton he’d just signed for, carried it out front and set it on the counter between items that hadn’t changed since his grandfather opened the shop eighty years ago. Aside from the cash register, which Gil had replaced with a digital version, praise God, it was all the same. Friendly Village china creamer with a chipped handle that did a damned fine job as a pen holder. Wicker basket of fresh apples and walnuts still in the shell, complete with nutcracker. Glass jar of stick candies that for some unnatural reason saw less action than the fruit basket.

The smell of the place hadn’t changed, either—at least, not since Gil was a kid. Still a mingling of machine oil, fresh sap, paint thinner and rubber. What would he do if he couldn’t breathe it in anymore?

He swallowed a hot, useless surge of anger and methodically emptied the carton. Smaller boxes of screws, nails, wing nuts, washers. He tossed the outer box aside, picked up a container of nails and headed for the galvanized metal bins against the back wall.

Five steps away from the counter, he tripped over an uneven joint in the aged hardwood floor and lost his grip on the container. A jangling thud as three thousand plastic cap roofing nails hit the floor. Bits of bright orange skittered under the counter and beneath the shelving, like prisoners eager to escape their cage.

He could relate.

He could also see a lot of time on his hands and knees in the near future.

With a sweep of his foot, Gil shoved the nearest band of fugitives aside and assumed the position. An unseen nail bit into his kneecap and he swore.

And got smacked upside the head.

“What the—?” He twisted around.

Seventy-something Audrey Tweedy stood over him, legs braced, eyes righteous, her puke-green monstrosity of a purse cradled in both hands. He jumped to his feet before she could strike again.

“Audrey.” He dusted off his hands and pushed his glasses up his nose. “What can I do for you?”

“Besides watch your language?” Her high-pitched, pixie-like voice matched her short, tousled hair but not her lumberjack physique. A plastic strip of bacon as long as his pinkie dangled from each earlobe.

“I didn’t know you were there,” he muttered. He kicked more nails under the counter and rubbed his head. “I apologize.”

“You can make it up to me by helping me find a wedding present.”

“Who’s getting married?”

Audrey shifted her grip on her purse. Luckily, the thing jogged his memory without making contact.

“You and Snoozy,” he said. “Next weekend. Justice of the peace, right?”

She beamed. Wisecracking, protein-pushing, tougher-than-toenails Audrey Tweedy goddamn beamed, and Gil felt a burn in his throat that had nothing to do with stale coffee.

“Less than two weeks,” she said reverently. “I can’t wait to be a bride.”

“Audrey, that’s—”

An exasperated glance and a beefy elbow to his gut turned the rest of his words to a wheeze. So much for sentiment.

“I need a gift for my bridegroom,” she said. “I seem to have caught you at a bad time, though.” Hands on hips, she surveyed the orange-dotted floor, then pointed at his knee. “You might want to get that.”

He looked down. Oh. Right. He freed the nail protruding from his knee. Luckily the thing had grabbed more denim than skin.

“A broom would work better.” She rummaged in her purse, gave a satisfied cluck and held out a squat tin can.

Gil squinted at the label. “You have to be joking.”

“If you ate more protein, you’d have probably been reaching for a broom before that box even hit the floor.” She lifted an eyebrow, as if expecting him to start slurping the contents of the can right then and there. Yeah, not going to happen.

When he slid it onto the counter, she sighed and nudged a roofing nail with the toe of her tennis shoe. “These are pretty, dear. What are they for?”

“Roofing felt. And house wrap.”

“Do they come in other colors?”

“You cannot be considering these for a wedding present. How would you feel if Snoozy got you a box of thumbtacks?”

“You have a point.” Audrey snorted. “See what I did there?”

The cowbell over the door did its thing and Gil braced himself for the Hazel and June show. Wherever Audrey Tweedy was, her cohorts, the Catletts, weren’t far behind.

Ever since the sisters had been elected co-mayors of Castle Creek, their appearance made people especially nervous: they never walked away from a conversation without first having talked someone into donating their time or their money in support of the Catletts’ longtime pet project, the community center.

At the moment Gil was short on both, which meant only one thing. He’d have to throw Audrey under the bus.

When feed store owner Seth Walker strolled into the store instead, Gil relaxed. Until he got a load of the look in his trail buddy’s eyes.

Crap. Saturday night.

Gil backed toward the counter and reached out, blindly searching for a distraction. His fingers closed around the gift from Audrey. Meanwhile Seth smoothly greeted the older lady while laser-beaming his disapproval at Gil.

“Fish balls,” Gil said.

“Yeah, you should be worried.” Seth threaded his fingers together and made a show of cracking his knuckles. “How about after you finish up with Audrey here you meet me out front?”

Gil shook the can at Seth, thinking its easy-open lid probably tasted better than what was inside. “I’m trying to be polite here by offering you a snack.”

Seth squinted at the label. “Glad you finally got yourself some balls, man. A little big for you, aren’t they?”

Audrey tut-tutted at Seth. “That’s not very nice.”

“Neither is standing up a date. One who was so excited about your dinner plans that she went out and got herself a new dress.”

Gil winced.

Audrey gasped. “Gilbert Wayne Cooper.” She snatched the can of fish balls out of his hands and shoved it back into her purse.

“I didn’t stand her up,” he protested. “I canceled in plenty of time.”

Seth crossed his arms. “She got a text while Mama Leoni was leading her to your table.”

“She hadn’t ordered yet. It’s not like she was out the price of a meal.”

“Seriously?” Seth’s disgust was a lot harder to take than his hard-ass bit.

Audrey’s bacon strip earrings swayed as she wagged her head. “You owe that young woman an apology.”

Yeah, he knew it. What he didn’t know was why he’d allowed Seth to set him up in the first place. Gil liked his privacy. Sure, he liked sex too—a lot—but nine times out of ten, everything that came along with it wasn’t worth the effort.

The one time it had been, she’d waited until the day they returned from her birthday gift—a long weekend in Cancún he’d had no business springing for—to tell him she’d decided to give her ex another shot. Was it any wonder his ego had issues?

Seth was staring daggers at him. If Gil didn’t make things right, and fast, he risked losing the best friend he ever had. Plus Seth would probably want his weight bench back. Then again, the guy seemed to be doing just fine without it.

“It was easier for you,” Gil said. “You never dropped your date’s house keys down an elevator shaft, or leaned in for a kiss and chipped her front tooth, or took her to the diner when she was wearing white and knocked her into a server carrying five orders of blueberry cobbler.”

Seth grinned. “I remember that. They never did get the purple splotches out of the ceiling.”

Audrey was shaking her head. “Just because you’re a klutz doesn’t mean you get to be an asshat.”

The only sound in the store was the chiding hum of the cash register. There was something very wrong about that word coming out of those straight-laced lips.

Gil coughed. “I’ll call Olivia and apologize. Meanwhile, Aud, mind if I get back to you on Snoozy’s gift?”

“Not at all, dear.” She headed for the door, then swiveled back to Seth. “Just out of curiosity, what did Ivy give you when you two got married?”

Seth shifted his weight as blood hauled ass into his cheeks. “A, uh, part for my truck. J-jumper cables,” he stuttered, and it was so obviously a lie, Gil hooted and Audrey’s expression graduated from curious to determined.

“It’s personal,” Seth growled.

Audrey nodded. “Uh-huh. Where is your wife now? Is she at home?”

Seth’s eyes went wide. “She won’t tell you.”

The old woman patted her purse. “Never underestimate the power of a summer sausage.”

Gil let loose a strangled laugh while Seth pulled out his phone and started texting.

“Discuss the subject of my wedding gift amongst yourselves, boys,” Audrey said. “And make sure you come up with something good, because this prime piece of meat is looking forward to a whole lot of tenderizing the weekend after next.”

Once the door shut behind her, Gil and Seth groaned in concert.

“If only we could unhear that.” Seth banged his palms against his ears. “Guess I should have listened when you said you weren’t into Olivia.”

“She’s not into me, either. She only agreed to the date as a favor to you.”

Red flashed back into Seth’s cheeks. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Okay. Fine. I’ll stay out of it. But you owe me one. Hubbard Ridge this weekend?”

Gil and his mountain bike both needed the workout, but he couldn’t pull an economic miracle out of his ass if he was sitting on it.

“Sorry, man. I need to be here. Rain check?”

“You’re not getting enough exercise, Coop. Last time we rode, you puked. Twice. You’re not careful, you’re gonna lose that manly figure.”

Gil wanted to ask what the hell that mattered, since no one would be seeing him naked, but that sounded too pathetic, even for him.

When he didn’t respond, Seth shrugged. “But Joe’s tomorrow night, right?” He read the answer on Gil’s face and sagged back against the counter. “Are you serious right now? You’re blowing off poker night, too?”

“Duty calls.”

“C’mon, bro. We’re already one man down. Harris didn’t say what he’s got going on, but it must be serious if the old man’s willing to miss meatball night. Can’t your shit wait?”

The truth about Gil’s “shit” was that he couldn’t afford to play because he couldn’t afford to lose. And he always lost. But if he fessed up, Seth would insist on staking him.

“Do me a solid, Walker, and let it go.”

Seth pushed upright. “Maybe that’s what you need to be thinking about doing.”

“Don’t even.”

Seth waved an arm at the paint cans and power tools, croquet sets and fishing rods surrounding them. “You’re killing yourself here. And for what?”

“Like you weren’t putting in eighteen-hour days when you were running the feed store and working at Ivy’s farm at the same time.”

“That was love, jackass. What’s your excuse? We both know you’d rather be anywhere else than here.”

“We both know that’s you, not me.”

Seth jerked his head back. “I don’t have anything against the store. It’s what you’re letting the place do to you, for no reason.”

“No reason?” Gil grabbed a straw broom off the rack behind him. He gave the floor a vicious sweep, enjoying the rattle as roofing nails scattered. He shot Seth a warning glance. “We’re not going there.”

“Apparently we’re not going anywhere.” Seth stalked out of the store, and moments later Castle Creek’s sole real estate agent sauntered in.

Gil clutched the broom tighter, momentarily tempted to brush her right back out again. This was shaping up to be one hell of a day and he hadn’t even knocked over his second cup of coffee yet.

Valerie Flick tossed her jet-black, corkscrew ponytail over her shoulder and glanced out the front window at Seth, who was slamming into his ancient pickup truck.

“Looks like you two might need couple’s counseling,” she said drily. She turned away from the window and scanned the store. With a delighted “Ooh,” she click-clacked over to the display of paperwhite growing kits. “One of these would look great on my desk.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Know what else would look great on my desk? A contract with your signature on it. Changed your mind about selling yet?”

Gil concentrated on long, steady strokes of the broom. “Go away, Val.”

“I came to sweeten the deal.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t look up. “How?”

“I’m trying to show you,” she said, voice edged with impatience.

He raised his head. She was leaning back against the counter, the spread of her elbows pulling her suit jacket open to reveal the lacy, dark pink cups of a barely-there bra. Damn, he hadn’t even realized she wasn’t wearing a shirt under there. She’d kicked off one high heel and was running the ball of her foot up and down the smooth expanse of her other leg.

He couldn’t deny she was a hot-looking woman. Yet his dick didn’t so much as wiggle.

Gil stacked his hands on the end of the broom and averted his gaze. When he didn’t speak, Val rolled one shoulder. “Nothing to say?”

“Only that it’s ridiculous to pretend you’re attracted to someone for the sake of a sale.”

“It’s more about the commission,” she said, and gave the hem of her jacket a yank. “Anyway, give me a break. Cooper’s has been circling the drain for years. Let me have the building. You won’t recognize it when I’m done.”

“Therein lies the problem.”

She huffed hard enough to blow her bangs out of alignment. “At least let me tell you what I have planned for the space.”

“This is not a space. It’s a piece of history, and I wouldn’t sell it to you if you planned to turn it into a free clinic for kids.” He hesitated. “You’re not planning to turn it into a free clinic for kids, are you?”

She laughed, genuinely amused. “In Castle Creek? It would be empty half the time.” She tipped her head. “Kind of like your hardware store.”

Gil propped the broom against the nearest shelf, walked to the door and held it open. “Cooper’s is not for sale.”

Val advanced slowly, trailing a polished fingernail along the length of the counter. When she reached the cash register, she gave it a pat. “That’s not what Ferrell said.”

Gil released the door and strode back inside. “When did you talk to him?”

“Last week. He said he’d reason with you. Help you understand it’s time to negotiate.”

Gil’s laugh was ugly, even to his own ears. “I haven’t had a conversation with my brother in six years and I don’t intend to start now. I suggest you break the habit yourself. He’s gotten all he’s going to get out of this place. Unless you plan to select something from one of these shelves and lay down money for it, you have, too.”

He marched back to the door and shoved it open again. He had to raise his voice above the clatter of the yardsticks he knocked over in the process. “Cooper’s is here to stay. Unlike you, Val.”

She plucked an apple from the basket on the counter and joined him at the door. “You’d better start practicing your social skills, Gilbert. You won’t be able to finance this hideout of yours forever.”

She tossed the apple up in the air, caught it and sidled out the door.

Her laugh drifted back down the sidewalk, and for the first time in a long time, Gil let himself wonder what the hell he’d do if he didn’t have Cooper’s Hardware in his life.

* * *

KERRY SAT IN the corner booth by the restroom, hands wrapped around her second cup of coffee. She should eat, but swallowing coffee presented enough of a challenge, thanks to the regret clogging her throat.

It had been two days since she’d met Parker and her daughter, but the girl’s shocked comment to Kerry’s father lingered like the smell of fish reheated in a microwave.

“You never said anything about a daughter.”

As much as the words stung, they made sense. Harris Briggs didn’t have a daughter. Not really. Not one he deserved. Not someone like Parker Macfarland, who ran a successful business and a loving household and never took advantage of anyone.

And had the respect of others.

Kerry hunched deeper into the roomy, navy knit of her favorite sweater. You have to earn it first, chickie.

Unfortunately, that was proving more difficult than she’d anticipated. She’d applied for admin work at the courthouse, the grocery store, the animal hospital and Castle Creek’s sole real estate office, each time bracing herself for the inevitable questions about her background. She’d never gotten that far. No one was hiring.

Not even here at Cal’s Diner, and the fact that she’d checked testified to the strength of her desperation. She’d sworn after waitressing and tending bar in college for infinitesimal tips that often ended up in the bottom of half-full plastic tumblers that she’d never be a server again.

Famous last words.

She’d have to spread her net wider. Chances were good she could find something in Erie. That would be counterproductive, though. Kerry wanted to stay close. Show her father she was in earnest. Let his friends see she was making amends.

At least, that had been her intention. Now it seemed that if she stayed in town her father would avoid her like...well, like he’d been doing since she’d borrowed money from his girlfriend two years ago.

Prickles of heat swept across her chest. Correction. His ex-girlfriend.

A metallic crash in the kitchen brought her head up. The diner wasn’t busy, probably because it was a weekday morning, and for that she was grateful. Kerry had fielded a few curious glances, though no one but the server had approached her. Once she’d learned there were no openings, she’d ordered a coffee and claimed a table. Now no one paid her any attention at all.

She relaxed her shoulders and let her gaze skim the gray Formica L-shaped counter, the alternating mustard-and ketchup-colored stools, the desserts under glass and the old-fashioned, stainless-steel milkshake machine that any other day would have been too much to resist. Same for the friendly smell of sausage, bacon and pancakes. It all seemed so...cozy. Welcoming.

Homey.

Why had she never visited? For years her father had made Castle Creek his home and not once had Kerry driven up to see him. Could she blame him for not making the trip to see her?

“Kerry?”

She blinked. A middle-aged woman with blond hair and kind eyes hovered near the table, a white takeout bag in one hand and a designer clutch in the other.

“Kerry Endicott, right?” Her smile was tentative, but at least it was a smile.

Here we go. Kerry entwined her fingers in her lap and squeezed. “I really want to say no.”

The other woman chuckled, though the sound held more strain than humor. “You look too much like your father for that to work. Before he lost all his hair, anyway.” She stretched out a hand. “I’m Eugenia Blue.”

Her father’s ex. Kerry nodded. “I recognized your voice.”

Her blush deepened. The one and only time she’d spoken to Eugenia, she’d begged her over the phone for a loan. Kerry released Eugenia’s hand. “Do you have some time? I’d appreciate the chance to talk.” She caught the other woman’s flinch and rushed to add, “About paying you back.”

Eugenia averted her gaze. “I’d like to talk with you, too.”

Kerry exhaled. Progress. She might not look thrilled about it, but at least Eugenia hadn’t followed Harris’s example and refused to speak with her.

Eugenia bit her lower lip as she glanced around the diner, then down at Kerry’s table, bare of all but condiments and a coffee cup. “Are you waiting for an order?” When Kerry shook her head, Eugenia motioned toward the door. “Then why don’t you come back with me to my shop?” She gave the bag a gentle shake. “I just happen to have two of Cal’s famous cinnamon rolls in here. I had every intention of eating them both, so please say you’ll come save me from myself. Besides, you need more than coffee for breakfast.”


CHAPTER TWO (#u63952ec0-6de5-5618-842e-d38bfcf31368)

WONDERING WHAT EXACTLY she was letting herself in for, Kerry followed Eugenia out of the diner and down State Street. Flowering cherry trees shaded the sidewalks and shed pale pink petals that clung like glitter to wrought iron benches, lampposts, trash cans. Old-fashioned storefronts competed for attention with boldly painted doors, brightly striped awnings and outdoor lights hung in half moons.

“I can see why my father likes it here.” Kerry scooted out of the way of a man setting up a sidewalk sign advertising tiger butter fudge.

“‘Dark chocolate, white chocolate, peanuts and peanut butter,’” Eugenia read. She smacked her lips and tugged Kerry away from the sign. “Sounds amazing but trust me, after eating one of Cal’s cinnamon rolls, you won’t have room for even a whiff of fudge.”

Fifteen minutes later, they sat on either side of a café table in the back room of Eugenia’s chic but playful dress shop, walled in by unpacked boxes and racks of clothes. Eugenia had given Kerry a whirlwind tour—conservative silk blouses paired with bright sequined scarves, and a crocheted sheath dress on a model wearing purple high-tops. That had been an instant mood lifter, and Eugenia seemed gratified when Kerry said so. Between them rested a freshly brewed pot of Constant Comment and a china plate that seemed far too fragile for the pair of dinosaur-egg-sized cinnamon rolls Eugenia had lovingly arranged on it.

“How long have you been in town?” Eugenia forked a roll like it was a porterhouse steak, plopped it onto another plate and handed it to Kerry.

Kerry watched Eugenia do the same with the second roll and felt her eyes stretch wide. No way her slim-hipped hostess could polish off one of these things, let alone two.

“Kerry?”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” She accepted a fork and a linen napkin, which she smoothed over the knees of her gray pants. “I’ve been here a couple of days now.”

“So you have seen your father.”

“Briefly.” Kerry took her time with the cup and saucer Eugenia handed her next. “He...wasn’t feeling it. Not that I can blame him.” China trembled against china. She tipped forward and set her tea on the table before looking up. “But this is about you. I don’t even know how to apologize for what I’ve done, let alone make it right.”

“That’s not necessary,” Eugenia began.

“Of course it is. Please don’t be any kinder than you already have been. I don’t deserve it. I borrowed money from you, a stranger, knowing full well I couldn’t pay it back. In fact, we both know borrow isn’t the right word.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweater. “Besides. I’m the reason you and my father broke up.”

Eugenia bristled. “He told you that?”

“I took advantage of you, and that must have humiliated him. He has a lot of pride.” Unlike his daughter.

Eugenia made a sound of half frustration, half affection. “Too much pride. He’s also a stubborn ass.”

Kerry surprised them both with a smile. “Do you still love him?”

Eugenia snatched up her plate, forked up a generous bite of pastry and took her time chewing. Finally she pointed the fork at Kerry. “You know what? You’re right. You do owe me. But the debt is between you and me. Please don’t entertain any misguided notion about getting Harris and me back together. That won’t square us.”

“I understand.”

“Good. So. When you said Harris wasn’t ‘feeling’ your reunion...”

“He’s not ready to talk yet.”

“Yet?” Eugenia set down her fork. “Does that mean you’re going to stick around until he does? I admire your determination, but that could take a while. If you do manage to find a job, the cost of a motel room will gobble up your paycheck.”

“I’d hoped to stay with Dad.” The word already felt too intimate to use. “But that request was a bit premature. Anyway, my plan is to get a job and start paying down my debts. You and Dad are the top two people on my list.”

It all came down to money, didn’t it? Her abuse of it had landed her in this situation. Her lack of it meant she wouldn’t be getting out of said situation anytime soon.

She needed a job.

Eugenia seemed to read her mind. “What kind of work are you looking for?”

“Anything, really.” Kerry had enjoyed her position as a database administrator for a government contractor, but the felony conviction had meant the loss of her security clearance. Her probation officer had found her a data entry position at a telemarketing firm. She’d almost rather wait tables. Not that she could afford to be selective. “I haven’t had any luck yet, but there are several places I haven’t checked.”

Eugenia hesitated.

Despite the tea warming her cup, Kerry’s fingers felt stiff with cold. “Did you bring me here to tell me I should just head back to North Carolina?”

“Goodness, no.” The pitch of Eugenia’s voice made it clear her surprise was unfeigned. “I think it’s brave of you to be here, and the right thing to do. Your father will come around.”

“I don’t know if he will. I don’t know if he should. But I have to try.” Eugenia crossed and uncrossed her legs for the second time. Dread kicked up the chaos again in Kerry’s belly and she pushed away her untouched roll. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

Eugenia opened her mouth, closed it, jerked forward. Tea sloshed over the rim of her cup onto her saucer. “There’s an apartment upstairs,” she blurted. “It’s been sitting vacant since I bought a house a few months ago. It’s yours if you want it. You can work for me, here at the shop.” She motioned with her chin at the cartons stacked to her right. “I have twenty boxes of summer inventory waiting to be unpacked, with more on the way.”

Slowly Kerry collapsed against the back of her chair. “That’s incredibly kind of you. Especially considering what I put you through. But Eugenia, if I do either of those things, my father will never speak to me again.”

“It’s not his business. This is between you and me.”

“He won’t see it that way.”

“At least think about it. The sooner you get settled, the sooner you can start paying him back. And you’d be doing me a favor, keeping an eye on the place. Plus, you’ll be saving me the trouble of looking for an employee.”

“Do you really need help?” In all the time they’d been sitting there, not once had the bell over the door announced a customer.

“Not full-time, no, but having you here would free me up to take care of things at my new house. Like cleaning. Unpacking. Figuring out a way to disinvite the raccoons living over my garage.”

A lightness expanded behind Kerry’s breastbone. A job and a place to stay, just like that. Seemed she’d gotten her first break since that peremptory knock on her front door, almost a year ago now.

The offer was as tempting as that second cinnamon roll seemed to be to Eugenia—lust gleamed in the dress shop owner’s eyes as she considered Kerry’s plate. And yet...

With shaking fingers, Kerry folded and refolded the napkin on her knee. She’d opted for the easy route far too many times. That kind of cowardice had earned her a divorce, a handful of victims she’d never be able to make things right with, six months of house arrest and a lifetime supply of shame and regret.

Besides, it had been obvious from the moment she’d approached Kerry at the diner that Eugenia had struggled with whether or not to extend this offer.

An offer that could so easily put Eugenia right back into victim mode.

If Kerry’s father found out, it would damage whatever chance he and Eugenia had of reconciling. And if Kerry stayed in Castle Creek and didn’t find a job, Eugenia would repeat the offer. Harris would find out one way or another. If Kerry landed another job, eventually the news about her conviction would spread, and her father would be humiliated all over again.

She placed her napkin on the table and straightened her shoulders. “Thank you, Eugenia. You don’t know how much your generosity means to me. But I can’t take advantage of you again. That’s why I’m here, to stop the cycle.” She slapped her thighs. “I’ll try to talk to my father one more time. Then I’m going home.”

“You can’t quit now.”

“I’ll be in touch. I promise. As soon as I find a job, I’ll start making payments.” Maybe the telemarketing firm would take her back.

“Kerry. There’s something you should know.” Eugenia reached out, adjusted the teapot and flashed a trembling smile. “Your father has a heart condition. And it’s starting to get the better of him.”

* * *

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Kerry pulled in a breath and followed Eugenia into Snoozy’s Bar and Grill, the local hotspot, according to Eugenia. She must have meant it literally, because someone had set the thermostat to stifling. Kerry shrugged off her sweater and gazed longingly toward a tidy but well-used wooden bar.

Tossing one back wouldn’t make the best impression. And one drink wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to help her forget that two years earlier, her father had been diagnosed with something called viral cardiomyopathy and hadn’t cared enough to let her know.

Eugenia tugged her deeper into the bar. No surprise the place was deserted—according to the sign on the door, it didn’t open until eleven.

It wasn’t as dimly lit as she’d expected. Sunshine streamed through a wide front window bracketed by dusty brown shutters, revealing what looked like a fancy hutch beneath, chest high, made of wood and acrylic. Strategically placed rocks and leaf-heavy branches decorated the emerald-colored outdoor carpet that lined the bottom of the pen.

Like a terrarium.

For reptiles.

Big ones.

Kerry stumbled back a step, wondering if she was staring at the reason the owner hadn’t managed to find a fill-in bartender. What the hell was in there?

“There he is,” chirped Eugenia.

Kerry jumped, and craned her neck. “Where?”

“Here.” Eugenia clutched her elbow and swung her around. “Kerry, meet Snoozy. Snoozy, this is my friend Kerry.”

Kerry felt a squeeze in her chest. Eugenia had used the word friend so very casually.

“Nice to meet you, Kerry.” A lanky, mournful-looking man with a handlebar moustache and shadows under his eyes dried his palms on a towel and slung it over his shoulder. He thrust out a hand. “Didn’t catch your last name.”

She stuffed her left hand in the back pocket of her jeans to hide the tremble. Would he recognize the name?

Here we go.

But before she could say anything, Snoozy dropped her hand and yanked the towel from his shoulder. He bent toward the glass.

“Smudges,” he muttered, and made a few swipes with the towel. “I hate smudges.”

She released a shaky breath. How about ex-cons? Do you hate those, too?

Eugenia made an ahem noise.

Snoozy straightened. “You ladies hungry? I just put together a big pot of chili you’re welcome to try. New recipe,” he said, and winked.

That’s what she’d been smelling. Oregano and cumin. Her stomach rumbled.

Eugenia reached out and grabbed a handful of Kerry’s long-sleeved top, as if in warning. Surely she couldn’t mean...

Kerry shuddered and gestured awkwardly at the pen. “Please tell me you didn’t cook anything that lived in there.”

Snoozy’s mouth dropped open and he staggered back a step. “Mitzi? I’d never think of—” His eyes narrowed. “You been talking to Audrey?”

“His bride-to-be,” Eugenia explained to Kerry, and gave her arm a let-me-handle-this pat. To Snoozy, she said, “I understand you’re still looking for someone to fill in while you’re on your honeymoon. Kerry here is interested in the job.”

His face cleared. He stroked his moustache and regarded Kerry with fresh interest. “Got any experience?”

“I tended bar in college. It was a long time ago, but I still make a mean margarita.” Maybe he’d ask her to demonstrate. A jigger of tequila would come in handy right about now.

“I’d need you to do more than tend bar. I have a server for lunch and dinner. While she runs the front, I run the grill in the back.”

Oh. Damn. Disappointment tugged at Kerry’s shoulders. She was a capable cook, but not much more than that. She glanced away from the encouragement in Eugenia’s eyes. “I can mix drinks under pressure. Cooking, not so much.”

“We could probably talk Ruthie into trading places when necessary.” He didn’t give her a chance to gush her thanks. “Got any questions for me?”

She burst out with “Who’s Mitzi?” What’s Mitzi?

Eugenia hid a smile behind her hand.

“You didn’t see my sign out front?” Snoozy scratched his chin with long, thin fingers. “Maybe I should get a bigger one.”

She’d seen the sign. Python Petting Zoo. “I thought that was some kind of dirty joke.”

“Mitzi is no joke,” Snoozy huffed. “I’d be pleased to introduce you.”

Kerry glanced uneasily at Eugenia. The other woman lifted an eyebrow and Kerry got the message, loud and clear. How badly do you want this job?

She tipped up her chin and sidled over to join Snoozy beside the pen. He scanned the interior, then pointed to the far left corner. Kerry followed his finger, and froze.

Something slithered.

Something big.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Snoozy spoke in hushed tones.

Teeth digging into her lower lip, Kerry watched as a thick, round body, brown with gold markings, coiled around a horizontal tree trunk. The sinister motion seemed endless, and Kerry didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified that there was no sign of the snake’s head. She looked around for Eugenia. Her “friend” was standing on the other side of the bar, pretending to have a fervent interest in a grouping of neon signs announcing You’ve Been Drafted, Beer Yourself and Someone Get the Lites.

Kerry swung back around and willed her gaze to return to the snake. There was some comfort, anyway, in knowing where the thing was. “How big is she?”

“Ten feet. She weighs sixty, maybe seventy pounds.”

“Um...would that be part of the job? Taking care of...Mitzi?”

Snoozy sagged. Even his moustache seemed to wilt. “This is why I’m not crazy about going away. No one appreciates Mitzi like I do. But Audrey has her heart set on a honeymoon.”

Eugenia crossed the room again, giving Mitzi a wide berth. “The good news is, you won’t come home and find out she’s been barbecued, since the person who suggested eating her is the same person sharing your honeymoon.”

Snoozy brightened. Kerry hugged her sweater closer, no longer enjoying the smell of that chili.

Eugenia clapped her hands. “Let’s get this show on the road. I need to get back to my shop.”

The door swung open, letting in the sounds of traffic. A heavyset man with a bushy gray beard stood blinking at them.

Snoozy waved him away. “Not open yet.”

“C’mon, Snooze, I’m hungry.”

“And it’ll be my pleasure to feed you, Dale. At eleven-oh-one.”

The man stomped back outside.

Kerry aimed a tentative smile at Snoozy. “So. Not being a big fan of snakes is strike one against hiring me.”

He shook out the towel and folded it in half. “There a strike two?”

She nodded. “Harris Briggs is my father.”

Snoozy went still, and scrunched his forehead. “That means...”

“Yes. I was convicted of a felony and spent six months under house arrest.”

He cast a furtive glance at Eugenia. “Had something to do with money, I heard.”

Kerry managed a nod. “Receiving stolen property and conspiracy to commit fraud.”

Eugenia opened her mouth, then closed it. A familiar flush of shame heated Kerry’s cheeks. There were no extenuating circumstances. No defense for what she’d done.

“When do you leave on your honeymoon?” she asked the bar owner quietly.

“Ten days.” There was no mistaking his reluctance, and Kerry’s heart sank. “We’ll be out of the area for three weeks,” he continued.

“What if I work the first week for meals only?” When the sides of his mouth curved downward, she pushed her shoulders back. “I’m desperate for this job. I hurt a lot of people, financially and emotionally. I have amends to make, and I intend to make them. But I can’t do it without a job.”

“A lot of folks would say you should have thought of that before spending money you didn’t have.”

“A lot of folks would be right. There’s nothing about this situation that doesn’t shame me, except for my resolve to fix it.”

“This place is all I have,” he said gruffly.

“I understand.” Kerry forced a smile. “Thank you for even considering it.”

“Well.” Eugenia sighed the word as she adjusted the buckle on her purse. “At least Harris will be relieved.”

Snoozy’s gaze sharpened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The man is being his usual pigheaded self. Not only did he dismiss Kerry’s plan to pay back her debts, he refused to let her stay with him. He sent her to Joe’s instead. She’s been there since Monday.”

Snoozy regarded Kerry with a combination of disgust and speculation. “Harris sent you to Joe’s motel?”

“To be fair, he had no idea I was coming to town.”

“Your own father sent you to a motel.” Snoozy’s mouth tightened. “You know, he mocked my Mitzi.”

“No.” Eugenia gave the word enough lingering, horrified glee to make a daytime soap star green with envy, and it was all Kerry could do not to roll her eyes.

Snoozy nodded emphatically. “He asked if Audrey would be making her own wedding dress. Out of snakeskin.”

“He didn’t.”

Snoozy pressed a fist to his mouth, made a gurgling sound and nodded again. Eventually he held up a hand and cleared his throat. “Tried to patch things up by offering to put together Aud’s bouquet using Parker’s specialty tulips, but the bottom line is, doing that man a favor ain’t exactly my priority.” His somber gaze settled on Eugenia. “You’ll vouch for her?” When Eugenia answered with an unequivocal yes, Snoozy slid the towel from his shoulder and dabbed his forehead. “Then I suppose it won’t hurt to give this a try, Kerry Briggs.”

The embarrassingly loud sound of Kerry’s thankful gasp was smothered by Eugenia’s delighted clap. “Thank you so much,” Kerry said. “I won’t let you down. It’s not Briggs, though. It’s Endicott.”

“Okay, Kerry Endicott. You’re in for some long hours. I’ll expect you to do things my way and not question why. The sheriff’s a good friend of mine. I’ll be asking him to check in regularly. No telling when he’ll stop by.”

“I understand.”

“Good. You can start tonight.”

Kerry blinked. “Tonight?”

“I need time to find someone else if you don’t work out.”

Relief warred with panic. “Fair enough.”

“Just who else do you think you’re going to get?” Eugenia demanded.

“Liz, maybe.” Snoozy hesitated. “Or Hazel. She offered to help out for free.”

“Liz is far too busy working with Parker at the greenhouses and raising that baby boy of hers,” Eugenia said. “And Mayor Hazel doesn’t have time for anything but that community center she and her sister are determined to finally make a reality. Besides, give her any control here and the first thing she’ll do is install a condom machine in each of the bathrooms.”

Snoozy’s face glowed red and Kerry fought not to smile.

Eugenia crossed her arms. “The second thing she’ll do is organize a wet T-shirt contest. Only male contestants need apply.”

The extra color faded from Snoozy’s cheeks. “Might bring more ladies in,” he said thoughtfully. “Which in turn would bring in more men.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Eugenia dropped her arms and bopped Snoozy with her clutch. “Hazel Catlett doesn’t know a Woo Woo from a Snakebite.”

Snoozy tugged at his moustache. “Don’t get much call for Woo Woos here. Beer, whiskey and wine. Even old Mr. Katz can handle that.”

This time Eugenia thumped Kerry with her clutch. “What’s in a Woo Woo?”

“Vodka, peach schnapps and cranberry juice.”

“There you go,” Eugenia said smugly. “Anyway, can old Mr. Katz or even Hazel handle drink deliveries, or cleaning up this place the morning after payday? Think of the business Kerry will bring in. Once people find out the new bartender is Harris’s daughter, you’ll be in danger of violating the fire code.”

Okay, that was a cheerful thought. Not.

“Guess I’ll see you tonight, then.” Snoozy sighed. “Don’t worry. I’ll find someone else to look after Mitzi.”

“Thank you,” Kerry said.

“Glad we got that settled.” Eugenia nodded crisply. “Now we should have plenty of time to get you moved out of the motel and into my apartment before you have to report back here.”

Kerry glanced uneasily from Snoozy to Eugenia. “That’s kind of you, but—”

“I’m not being kind, I’m being practical. How are you supposed to pay anyone back if you’re spending all your money at the motel? Besides, the sooner you settle your debts, the sooner we can gloat to your father about how wrong he was.”

“Sounds good to me.” Snoozy’s grin took ten years off his face. “Can’t have you working for free, now, can we?” He nudged Kerry with a bony elbow. “I’ll start you off low, though. Even with tips, you won’t be making much.”

“Any amount will help. I promise I won’t let you down.” Kerry shook his hand. “By the way, congratulations on your upcoming wedding.”

She hid a belated flinch. How long ago had Eugenia canceled her own ceremony?

Before she could issue an apology, the door opened behind them. Snoozy paled, and Kerry and Eugenia turned to see who had come in.

A rigid Harris Briggs stood in the doorway, in worn jeans and a maroon thermal shirt. His color was high, his eyebrows low. His disbelieving gaze traveled from Eugenia to Kerry to Snoozy. His massive chest swelled as he inhaled.

“Traitors,” he growled.

Slam.

Eugenia stared at the door, Snoozy at the ceiling and Kerry at Mitzi’s pen. An elongated, V-shaped head with obsidian eyes stared back at her through the plexiglass, and Kerry could almost hear the snake wondering what a North Carolina girl might taste like.

Panic baked the inside of her mouth. No way she could stay in Castle Creek. Her plan had always been to pay her literal dues, then return to blessed urban anonymity, not become part of a community where everyone would know not only her name, but every one of her failings, too.

It took her two tries to get the words out. “Sure you don’t need me to demonstrate my cocktail skills?”

“Good idea,” Snoozy said hoarsely. “I’ll take one of those margaritas.”

“Count me in,” Eugenia said, and marched toward the nearest wooden stool.

Kerry hoped Snoozy carried a decent cider, because she was opting for a Snakebite.

Might as well get it over with.

* * *

HER FIRST SHIFT at Snoozy’s, and Kerry started out doing everything right. She exchanged her usual heels for comfortable, nonslip shoes and wore a sleeveless top with her black jeans, in deference to the bar’s subtropical temp. She showed up early and immediately checked her stock. The bar was astonishingly low on pineapple juice and mint, but when she mentioned it to Snoozy, he snickered and said they’d be in good shape until the order arrived the following week.

She made the sour mix, refilled the ice well and wiped everything down while familiarizing herself with the setup. She gave the bathrooms a once-over and verified drink prices with Snoozy.

But she couldn’t help feeling she was doing it all wrong. With every lime she sliced, cabinet she explored and pour spout she inserted, shame nagged. Slowed her thought processes, and made her fingers clumsy. She couldn’t stop seeing the wounded look on her father’s face when he’d walked into the bar that morning.

Traitors.

She was doing it again. Dragging the innocent down with her.

“Easy there, barkeep.” Snoozy put a finger on the tip of the stainless-steel spoon she was using to stir a Brass Monkey. “You’re mixing a drink, not calling in the ranch hands for dinner.”

With a feeble chuckle, Kerry surrendered the bar spoon. She garnished the drink with an extra cherry, set it on a cocktail napkin and slid it across the bar to a woman who, fortunately, was paying too much attention to a man at the corner table to care how much time the bartender had taken with her drink. Or how much of a racket she’d made.

“Enjoy,” Kerry told her.

The woman nodded distractedly and turned away.

Kerry offered her boss a rueful smile. “Good thing it’s not as busy as you thought it might be.” Especially since Ruthie had called in sick. Kerry couldn’t help wondering if the server was staging some kind of protest, but Snoozy didn’t seem worried.

The bar had been empty when she’d arrived, and still smelling of chili, with the biggest noisemaker the lazy, rattling hum of the overhead fans. Ninety minutes later, a mere half-dozen customers were enjoying The Very Best of Neil Diamond crooning through Snoozy’s surprisingly advanced Bluetooth speakers. Still, a french fries and grilled onions haze had overtaken the smell of oregano, and Snoozy kept Kerry sufficiently busy to prevent her from scoping out the lock on Mitzi’s pen every ten minutes.

A glance at the Yuengling clock over the bar showed it had been closer to thirty. Her chin jerked toward the pen. Yep. Padlock in place. She turned back to Snoozy, who rolled red-rimmed eyes.

“We’re only slow because no one knew you’d be here tonight,” he said. “Tomorrow night it’ll be a different story.”

Kerry’s stomach dropped. Which of her customers would stare, or shake their heads in disgust, or even walk out if they knew she was an ex-con? All of them? None of them? Did they know her father? Would it make a difference?

Or would they slide onto one of the scuffed wooden bar stools, lean in and ask if she’d ever met Piper Kerman of Orange Is the New Black fame and did she get any tattoos and not that they wanted to be nosy, but did she really go without sex the entire time she was behind bars?

Nobody wanted to hear about boring ol’ home detention.

She pulled in a breath. She had no business thinking of Snoozy’s patrons as her customers, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “For causing trouble between you and my father.”

“Don’t be sorry. Be dependable.”

She suppressed the urge to protest. If there was one thing she’d learned from her dealings with the court system, it was when to keep her mouth shut.

A pang of regret darted through her chest. The best way to fight it? Motion. She opened the refrigerator and peered in, took stock again, made sure the pour spout on the half-and-half was closed. Then she faced her new employer, a question about whether he allowed customers to run tabs hovering on her tongue.

But instead of keeping an eye on her, Snoozy was tossing lingering glances around the bar, as if filing away memories to call on during his time away. Or maybe he was gauging how much damage she could do. Kerry used the bar spoon to straighten the orange wedges in her garnish tray. Either way, it was clear he was having second thoughts.

Who could blame him? She was, too.

Her gaze followed the path Snoozy’s had taken, from the giggly girl smoking two guys at pool, to the middle-aged couple sitting side by side in a booth, nursing their drinks and staring more at each other than the menu, to the nerdy-looking dude in the corner, who appeared more interested in his laptop than the beer Snoozy had set him up with an hour ago.

Or maybe he was trying to make it last so he wouldn’t have to get his refill from Kerry. They’d made eye contact once, and he hadn’t looked impressed. Not that she’d expected him to. Or wanted him to.

Just as well. No guy would be interested in a woman with a past like hers. Anyway, she needed to focus her energy on one thing.

Atonement.

The door opened, and the bar quieted as all eyes landed on a thin teenage boy with pale skin and shoulder-length red hair. He wore faded yellow high-tops and a long-sleeved tee over shiny black basketball shorts. Just as Kerry was wondering with a sinking feeling if he was chasing down a missing parent, Snoozy gestured for her to follow him to the end of the bar, where he waved the boy over.

“Kerry, I want you to meet Dylan. He’ll be looking after Mitzi for me.”

“You will?” She grabbed the teen’s hand with both of hers and laid a fervent shake/squeeze combo on him. “My hero,” she said.

He blushed so hard, his freckles disappeared. “No big deal,” he muttered. “Mitzi’s cool.”

“Heroic and humble.” Kerry smiled, leaned in. “Truth is, Mitzi freaks me out a little, so I’m glad you’ll be around.”

She was laying it on a little thick, but the purple shadows under the teen’s eyes made her heart hurt.

Dylan’s blush deepened. “I can take out the trash. Do other stuff you need.”

“That would be great. I can see you’re going to be a huge help.”

He dipped his head. When his phone pinged, he hustled off into a corner and started typing with his thumbs, stopping every now and then to shoot a glance back at the bar.

Snoozy gave Kerry a considering look. “That kid’s standing a foot taller.”

“There’s something about him...”

“He’s had it rough.” His face tightened. “He lives four blocks away, so he doesn’t have far to walk. He’ll be in every day after school to change Mitzi’s water and clean her bedding. A few odd jobs on top of that won’t hurt, but don’t keep him long. He’ll have homework and chores of his own at home. I’m putting him to work right away so he can get used to the routine. He’ll be starting tonight.”

“He’ll feed Mitzi, too?”

“On Tuesdays. She only needs to be fed once a week. I’ll make sure someone’s around to help, though Dylan knows better than to handle her on his own.”

“She only eats once a week?”

Snoozy nodded. “Obesity’s a problem for pythons in captivity.”

“Interesting. Although,” Kerry said, drawing out the word, “the fatter she is, the slower she’ll move.”

“Pythons don’t chase their prey. They’re ambush hunters.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” She scrambled for a change of subject. “It’s okay to let a minor in the bar?”

“As long as he’s supervised. Don’t let him wander off or we could get in trouble. If the bar’s busy, keep him with you, or ask him to come back later. I’m going in the back to make some phone calls. Any other questions?”

“Would you happen to have a sweater I could borrow? It was pretty warm in here this morning and now I’m wishing I’d worn something with a little more fabric.” Though they both knew her goose bumps had little to do with the cool air.

“Yeah, the AC’s temperamental. Kind of like my bride-to-be.” He grinned, and some of the tension in Kerry’s shoulders eased.

“Let me see what I can find in the back,” he said.

“You can borrow mine.”

Kerry swung around. A smiling blonde flanked by two other women held out a purple cardigan. She gave it a shake when Kerry hesitated.

“It’s okay,” the blonde said. “I don’t need it.”

“That’s so nice of you, Allison.” Still Kerry hesitated. “But I might spill something on it.”

“You remembered my name.” The other woman beamed. Kerry didn’t deserve her delight, though. She couldn’t help but remember, considering she’d run into Allison probably two or three times a day for the past couple of days. Allison Gallahan and her husband, Joe, owned Sleep at Joe’s, the motel where Kerry had stayed before moving into Eugenia’s apartment that afternoon.

“It’s washable.” Allison tugged at Kerry’s hand and draped the sweater over her forearm. “It has to be. I have a kid. You’ve met Parker, right?”

Kerry managed a smile for Parker Macfarland, who stood on Allison’s right. The redhead wore jeans, an emerald top and an expression free of censure.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Kerry said.

Snoozy held up Allison’s sweater so Kerry could poke her arms into the sleeves. “This third one here, she’s trouble.” He winked at the woman on the other side of Allison, the youngest of the three—and the least friendly looking.

“I’m Liz,” she said. She flicked a mass of pale blond corkscrew curls over one shoulder and thrust a hand across the bar. “Liz Watts. I used to work here.”

“Liz left us to work full-time with Parker. Place just isn’t the same. Say...” Snoozy directed the word to his feet. “Mind if Kerry gets your number? Case something comes up while I’m gone?”

“Good idea.” Liz stared, unsmiling, at Kerry. “Because you never know.”

Parker tossed a quick side-eye in Liz’s direction. “Though I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“And if you’re not, we’ll help,” Allison added firmly. “After all, Eugenia sent us to offer moral support for your inaugural shift. Didn’t she, Liz?”

Liz grunted, sounding eerily like Snoozy.

“That’s kind of you,” Kerry said. She seemed to be saying that a lot these days. She really was grateful, but she couldn’t help feeling uneasy, too. She was racking up a lot of favors.

Allison waved away her compliment. “We’re not kind, we’re curious. Plus, Liz and I are in dire need of a little baby-free time.”

Kerry nodded in faux understanding. These three had each other’s backs. What would that be like?

Stop taking advantage of people and maybe someday you’ll find out.

Snoozy rapped his knuckles on the bar. “Glad we got that that settled. I’ll let you ladies talk.”

His sound system started playing “Hotel California” and he whistled as he headed toward the kitchen, quicker than Kerry had seen him move all night.

“So what can I get you three to drink?” she asked.

“A mocktail for me.” Parker patted her baby bump. “Bet you all didn’t think I knew that word. Here’s another. I’ll have a no-jito. Get it? That’s a mojito with no alcohol.” Her bravado slipped as she eyed Kerry. “Can you do that?”

“I can definitely do that.” Though that would probably use up the last of the mint. Next round she’d have to talk Parker into something else. Kerry turned to Liz and Allison. “And for you two?”

“We’d each like to try a Blue Hawaiian,” Liz said.

“We would?”

Liz elbowed Allison without looking her way. “Have you heard of it?”

“I haven’t, but I can look it up.” Kerry retrieved her tablet from under the bar and pressed a few keys. When she located the recipe, she couldn’t help a chuckle.

“Rule number one.” Liz glared. “Don’t make fun of a customer’s drink choice.”

“I’m so sorry. I promise I wasn’t laughing at your order. Earlier I told Snoozy we were low on pineapple juice, and he looked at me like I’d grown a second head. I should have enough for two of these, though.” Kerry scrounged for the professionalism that had once made her a passable barkeep. “Did you know the Blue Hawaiian is also called the swimming pool cocktail?”

Liz’s expression cleared. “Snoozy always was surprised when we ran out of fruit juice and peach schnapps. You might want to go ahead and pick some up, and reimburse yourself from petty cash. That is...” She cocked her head. “Is he even trusting you with the petty cash?”


CHAPTER THREE (#u63952ec0-6de5-5618-842e-d38bfcf31368)

PARKER SUCKED IN a breath.

“What the hell?” Allison whispered harshly.

Even Liz looked startled by what she’d said.

“He is trusting me with the petty cash,” Kerry said evenly. No need to point out Snoozy was trusting her with the whole damned bar. “I don’t intend to let him down. Excuse me while I find the curaçao.”

She turned away and scanned the mirrored shelves. She knew exactly where Snoozy kept the blue curaçao, but she needed a moment to remember how to breathe. Liz’s words may have been unkind, but they weren’t unfair.

She walked away from the furious whispers behind her, rolling her shoulders in a futile attempt to shake off her distress. Gratitude was what she should be feeling. For freedom. For second chances. For this job.

She caught sight of Nerdy-Looking Dude’s reflection in the mirror as he stood and stretched. The hem of his short-sleeved shirt rose, and Kerry stilled. Holy Hannah. Absently she added manly stomach muscles to her mental gratitude journal. She barely stopped herself from turning to get an eyeful of the real thing.

That was a surprise. Sitting behind his laptop, with his black-rimmed glasses and striped button-down shirt, he hadn’t looked quite so...toned.

He chugged the remains of his beer. Good. She was glad he was leaving, because she’d wasted way too much time and brain power wondering what the heck he was up to over there in the corner.

The woman with the Brass Monkey had been wondering, too. She sat two tables away, hunched over her drink, chin in hand as she watched Nerdy-Looking Dude’s every move. He hadn’t glanced her way once. Probably because she had a good ten years on him. He looked to be around thirty. Kerry’s age.

The longing on the woman’s face made Kerry want to give her a hug.

She grabbed the bottle of curaçao and turned back to her customers. While Parker, Allison and Liz stood in a huddle, continuing their confab while watching Kerry’s every move, Kerry grabbed a highball glass and two hurricanes and set them on the bar mat. As she reached for the shaker, she tipped over one of the hurricane glasses. Luckily she caught it before it rolled off the mat, but her rhythm was off. She’d never manage to mix these drinks without breaking something.

She dumped crushed ice into the shaker and added blue curaçao, coconut cream, pineapple juice and white rum. Liquor dripped all over her hand and down the side of the bottle. The pourer was loose on the rum. With a slow inhale and exhale, she reseated it.

The whispering intensified. She wiped her hands on her jeans, reached for the shaker lid and promptly dropped it. It thumped onto the floor and she wanted to drop down beside it.

A distraction. She needed one. Desperately.

Snoozy, where are you?

A cheer erupted at the pool table, but it wasn’t enough to pull the trio’s focus from Kerry and the mess she was making of their drinks. For God’s sake, where was a fire when you needed one?

Thunk. An empty beer mug appeared before her. She looked up and met the brown-eyed gaze of Nerdy-Looking Dude.

“Maybe you ladies could wait for your drinks over there.” He nodded at the booth farthest from the bar, pulled a handful of coins from his pocket and let them clatter onto the counter. “I have some negotiating to do. I’d rather you not add to my humiliation by watching.”

Kerry swallowed a sigh of relief as Allison led Parker and Liz over to the booth. She nodded her thanks, and wiped her hands on a towel. “Another beer?”

“Boston lager,” he said, and settled on a stool as she fetched a mug. “Better make it half.” He gestured at the change on the bar and flashed a sweet pair of dimples. “Not enough coin, and all.”

“And make myself look too cheap to spot you?” She set a full mug in front of him and went back to mixing cocktails. “Besides, I owe you. You probably saved me having to replace a good twenty dollars in glassware.”

He shrugged. “All I know is I had a drink emergency.”

“Your last drink sat in front of you for an hour before you finished it.”

“Hence the emergency. I need something to wash away the taste of warm brew.”

If only he’d stayed in the corner. The abs and the gallantry had been intriguing enough. Now she was getting an up-close-and-personal view of attractively rumpled blond hair and a strong, stubble-covered chin. The regret she’d brought into the bar was extending beyond money matters.

Damn it.

She finished up her orders as quickly as she could, the sound of the shaker precluding further conversation. As nice as the guy had been, the last thing she needed was to encourage anyone to take an interest in her. When she’d tended bar in college, she’d been instructed to develop a following. A bartender with fans meant higher sales numbers and bigger tips. Win-win.

Only she didn’t want fans. Not now. Not here. Didn’t need them, either. What she needed was to keep her head down and do a good job and hopefully secure a solid reference for the next gig, whatever that might be.

Eugenia had shown her a lot of undeserved faith. No way Kerry would let her down.

She went overboard on the garnishes for all three cocktails. With a cheerful smile, she delivered the drinks, made recommendations for round two that involved neither mint nor pineapple juice, checked on her other customers and returned to the bar well to clean up.

Nerdy-Looking Dude sat silently sipping his beer while she washed and dried her implements and wiped down the bar. Now she needed a distraction from her distraction.

Said distraction was stacking up the coins he’d tossed on the bar. “You need a tip jar.”

“I think that’s a little premature.”

He gave her a half smile that could charm the stripes off a tiger. “I’m Gil. Gil Cooper.” He extended his hand across the bar.

“Kerry.” His hand was hard and warm around hers. She refused to let it give her ideas.

“I take it, Bartender Kerry, that this is your first night on the job?”

“Hopefully not my last.”

“So that—” he made an almost imperceptible motion with his head toward the newly occupied booth “—was just first-night jitters? Or did they say something to you?”

“Jitters,” she said easily. He knew the three friends. She could tell. Even if their suspicions weren’t justified, she had no intention of stirring up trouble.

He reached for the bowl of pretzels she’d set out and knocked over the stacks of coins. His hand jerked in a belated attempt to keep the towers intact, and pretzels scattered across the bar. Seemed they were two of a kind. He muttered under his breath and cleaned up after himself.

She forced her gaze away from his hands. “Can I ask you a question?”

“No,” he said, brightening. “I’m not married.”

She fought a smile by pursing her lips. “I was going to ask if you’re a regular.”

“I’m thinking we don’t know each other well enough to discuss my bathroom habits.”

“Not irregular. A regular.” His sense of silliness sparked a wistfulness inside that she had no business feeling. “Do you come here often? To—” she used both hands to gesture from him to the laptop he’d abandoned at the corner table “—do whatever it is you do?”

“I am a regular.” He dusted the salt from his hands. “Starting tonight. Is that your question?”

No way she was responding to that, though in an absurd way, his declaration made her feel less lonely.

“My question is, does she bother you?” She jerked her chin toward the pen. “Mitzi? Everyone seems to take her in stride.”

“She bothers you.”

“I don’t count.” When he raised an eyebrow, she added, “I mean, I won’t be here long. I’m only filling in while Snoozy’s on his honeymoon.”

“He’ll be gone a couple of weeks, right?”

“Three.”

“Long time to be looking over your shoulder. You’re going to have to find a way to lighten up about the apple of Snoozy’s eye.”

Kerry set a bowl of popcorn on the bar, eyed Gil’s elbow and moved the bowl farther away. “I’m open to suggestions,” she said. She caught the mischief on his face and added, “About getting used to Mitzi.”

“How about a joke?” He narrowed his eyes, then snapped his fingers. “What was Mitzi’s favorite subject in school?”

Kerry raised the other eyebrow.

“Hisstory.”

She groaned and started to move away.

He held up a finger. “One more. ’Cause everyone deserves a second chance. What’s Mitzi’s favorite TV show?”

“I don’t know.” Glass clinked as Kerry rearranged her speed well, the thigh-high rack for a bartender’s most commonly used bottles. “When Animals Attack?”

Gil chuckled, then made a sound like a buzzer. “Wrong. Monty Python.”

She laughed, and looked up, and intercepted an appreciative glance. Did a decent job of ignoring it. “Your jokes are almost as bad as my dad’s.”

The moment she said it, she regretted it.

“His must be terrible, then.” Gil tossed a piece of pretzel into his mouth. “Give me an example.”

Kerry caught the eye of Brass Monkey Woman and realized she was doing a rotten job of looking after her customers.

“Yeah, well, it’s all fun and games until a reptile gets out of her pen,” she said. “Excuse me. I need to check on someone.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Gil said to her back. “She got away from Snoozy once. No way he’ll let it happen again.”

Kerry whirled around. “She got out? When was this?” When Gil lowered his head and pushed his glasses higher up his nose, hiding a smile, she slapped the bar. “Now that was mean.”

Brass Monkey Woman came up beside Gil, carrying her empty glass. Kerry swallowed a sigh. Be dependable. That’s all Snoozy had asked and already she was sucking at it.

She apologized to the woman and asked if she’d like another of the same. When the woman nodded, Kerry retrieved a fresh glass and gestured at Gil. “Don’t you think that was mean?”

The woman nodded again, this time with a conspiratorial smile curving her lips. She never looked away from Gil’s face.

“It’s the truth,” he said. “This was quite a few years back, before Snoozy set Mitzi up here in the bar. He was going through a divorce and his wife deliberately let Mitzi out of the house. Half a dozen years later, Allison found her coiled up in a wall at the motel. Mitzi, not Snoozy’s ex.”

Kerry paused in the act of unscrewing the lid on the orange juice. “Wait, Allison found Mitzi? At the motel? I was just there.” Thank God for Eugenia and her dress shop apartment.

Gil helped himself to a handful of popcorn. “I’m sure if she’d had any roommates, they’d have found them by now.”

Brass Monkey Woman made a small noise of distress and shifted on the stool.

Kerry sent her an empathetic glance and turned a glower on Gil. “You’re a real hoot.”

“Relax. They had an exterminator out there and everything. Besides, it was a good thing. Mitzi brought Joe and Allison together.”

Kerry stirred the cocktail, added two cherries and slid it across the bar. “I’m not big on reptiles.”

“I can see that.”

Brass Monkey Woman handed Kerry a credit card and reached for the bowl of popcorn. Gil offered her the pretzels, as well, and she beamed.

“So, you’re staying at Joe’s,” Gil said casually. He didn’t notice Brass Monkey Woman’s sharp glance.

“I was.”

“You don’t have friends or family in Castle Creek?”

“There wasn’t room for me.”

“What happens when Snoozy gets back from his honeymoon? You plan to hang around?”

Brass Monkey Woman sniffed, picked up her drink and made her way back to her table.

Kerry winced. Gil seemed oblivious, his attention trained directly on Kerry. She had to admit, it made for a nice change.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said. “Snoozy won’t need me here, so I’d have to find another job.” Which would not be easy. She started to swipe her palms down the front of her shirt, remembered Allison’s sweater and swiped them on her hips instead. “I’d also forgotten how sticky I get by the end of the day.” She lifted first her left, then her right shoe, wincing at the sound her soles made as they separated from the tacky rubber mat. “Me and the floor.”

She wouldn’t miss much about bartending, that was for sure. So far she was managing, but ever since her arrest, she’d longed to do something that would allow her to spend more time in the sun.

Allison appeared beside Gil, waving Kerry off when she apologized for not making it back to their table. “Two margaritas and a Shirley Temple, please.” She poked Gil in the shoulder. “We’re over there talking about you. Still running that online forum?”

Gil hesitated, and Kerry could practically hear him turning red. He mumbled something about collaborative math projects, whatever those were.

Allison watched Kerry mixing drinks. “Parker says Nat’s having a hard time with algebra. Maybe you could give her a call, see about signing the kid up for some tutoring?”

“Sure,” Gil said.

Aha.

He was a nerd.

Albeit a hot one.

She followed Allison to her table to deliver the girls’ drinks and turned to find Gil had returned to his laptop. Ignoring a twinge of disappointment, she checked in with the pool table crowd and the couple too into each other to eat, then moved back behind the bar and got busy washing glasses. A hoot of masculine laughter sounded outside the door right before two men walked in. Kerry registered a cop’s uniform and dropped one of the hurricane glasses.

Glass shattered, and the bar went silent.

* * *

THE CHILLY NIGHT air plucked at Eugenia’s skin, raising gooseflesh. Still, her temper burned hotter than the habaneros in Snoozy’s chili, which she’d done her darnedest to warn Kerry away from. As she glared at Harris’s front door, shrouded in shadow, a butter-colored moon peered through gauzy strips of clouds, casting enough light to reveal the small potted tree to her left. The two leaves that elevated it from stick status were brown. A sudden sadness gathered in her throat, and it hurt to swallow.

This time when she pressed the doorbell she didn’t let go.

“I know you’re in there, old man,” she called. “You might as well open up because I’m not going away.”

The door swung wide. “Sure you will,” he said, his voice all gravel. “You did before.”

Eugenia put her hands behind her back and gripped her own wrist. Otherwise she might find herself trying to smack the stubborn right out of the man. He must have recognized her urge to do violence because he eased back a step. She took the opportunity to trespass.

“That thing is dying.” She jabbed a finger toward the sickly tree. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Talk about the pot callin’ the kettle black.” He hesitated, then closed the door, shutting them both inside. He heaved a gusty sigh and with a hand to her back, guided her away from the foyer and into the living room. “I know why you’re here.”

She pulled away and walked to the far end of the sofa, long faded from sitting beneath a front window with curtains Harris never bothered to draw.

“Do you,” she said.

“I do, and I’m too damned tired to deal with it. I appreciate the thought, but you best go on home now, Genie.”

Eugenia ignored the traitorous tingle at the nickname he hadn’t called her in forever and focused instead on his jackass-ery. “Don’t you shoo me away, old man. What on earth is going on in that thick, naked noodle of yours?”

“You were the one doin’ the shooin’.” He pounded his fist once on the back of his recliner, sending it rocking. “Damn it, I’m not an old man and I like my naked noodle.” His words lingered in the dusty plaid of his living room. When he realized what he’d said, he flushed.

“Happy to hear it,” she said. She’d grown rather fond of it herself, until the weight of Harris’s stubbornness had pressed his personality flat.

He grumbled under his breath. “You’re not here to tell me my daughter’s lookin’ to borrow money again?”

“She told you why she’s here.”

“She’s told me a lot of things over the years. I’ve learned to close one ear and stick my finger in the other. I know damned well she’s back for another handout.” He rubbed a palm over his head. “I, uh, apologize for callin’ you a traitor.”

She lifted her chin, and the stiff wool collar of her pea-green jacket scuffed the nape of her neck. Now she remembered why she rarely wore the thing. “Harris Briggs, you’re a jackass.”

He set his jaw. “That’s what you came to tell me?”

“It is.”

“I’m a jackass. ’Cause I’m smart enough not to let my ex-con daughter take advantage of me?”

“’Cause you’re dumb enough to let your only child believe you don’t love her anymore.”

“Well, that...that’s not true,” he blustered. He moved deeper into the living room and stared down at a half-empty bottle of beer on the coffee table. Which he’d protected with a ceramic coaster, she was gratified to see.

He gave a harrumph, and crossed his arms. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. You’ve showed her, over and over again.” She braced a hand on the back of the sofa. Damn the man for his ability to sap the starch right out of her knees.

“And she sent you to tell me this?” His breathing roughened. “So you are working against me.”

Slowly Eugenia pushed upright. Coming here had been a mistake. She was only making Harris more suspicious of his daughter.

“You know what?” Absently she twisted a button on her jacket. “I did it again. Inserted myself where I don’t belong. This is between you and Kerry. But think, Harris. Please think about the message you’re sending by refusing to see her.”

He snatched up his beer, took a swig and shook his head. “She’s here for another charitable contribution, not a reconciliation. I know my daughter, Genie.”

No, he didn’t. Not anymore. Now all Eugenia could do was keep her fingers crossed that he would give himself the chance to.

“All righty, then,” she said stiffly.

He tipped his bottle in silent invitation and she shook her head. She missed him, God help her. His strength, his solidity, even the stupid cinnamon smell of his chewing gum. If she didn’t get out of here soon, she’d find herself bawling into that horrible flannel shirt. She marched back to the door. “I won’t bother you again.”

“Genie?”

She stilled, her hand on the doorknob.

“There’s a difference between dead and dormant. That tree on my porch. It’ll come back. You think I killed it, but I didn’t.”

Eugenia squeezed her eyes shut. Harris Briggs was far from the beat-around-the-bush type. The last time they’d talked...the things she’d said... She’d made him tentative.

“I knew you loved me, Harris,” she said. She touched her palm to the smooth coolness of the door. “Just not enough to compromise. On pretty much anything.”

“That was all up to me, was it?”

Wearily she faced him. “I didn’t come here about you and me. I came about you and your daughter. But it was a mistake and I apologize.”

Harris gave a strained chuckle. “This is payback. That’s what this is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You asked me to marry you. I said no. That’s when our troubles began.”

“Our troubles began when you refused to include your daughter in our lives.”

“She made that choice, not me.”

“Bull crap,” Eugenia said crisply.

Amusement flashed across his face. “You never did give me a chance to explain why I turned you down.”

“This isn’t about that.” The remembered pain of his rejection knifed into her lungs. “This is about your daughter and how much she needs you.”

His nostrils flared and he turned a disturbing shade of red. “What about how much I needed you? How do you think I felt when I walked into Snoozy’s today?”

“Harris.”

“You know what?” He pressed a palm to his chest. “I’m not feeling up to this tonight.”

“Harris,” she repeated, unable to keep the alarm out of her voice.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Don’t go gettin’ your dress over your head.”

“You’re not the one I’m worried about.” Abruptly she dropped a hip onto the little table beside the door. Something was wrong. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart beat too fast as she tugged at the neckline of her sweater. Did he have the AC on? She really needed some AC. “I think you’d better call 911.”


CHAPTER FOUR (#u63952ec0-6de5-5618-842e-d38bfcf31368)

ON THE WAY up to his apartment over the store—a big selling feature, Valerie Flick kept insisting, if only he’d call it a “loft”—Gil tripped on one of the narrow steps of the wrought iron staircase. In an ungainly attempt to avoid hitting his head, he twisted his body. His solar plexus connected with the railing and punched the air from his lungs. Son of a bitch.

Hand pressed to his chest, and with one long, drawn-out wheeze, he jerked sideways and slid onto his ass. The cold metal chilled his spine.

He dropped his head back and sucked air, finally opened his eyes and stared up into the thick black sky, awash with twinkles. The stars seemed friendly. Gil could use friendly. In fact, if it weren’t already fifty degrees and falling, he’d be just as happy staying on these steps all night. And if he’d tossed back as many beers as he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have cared about the temperature at all. But it wouldn’t have been worth the hangover, especially since in the morning he’d get right back to worrying about what his asshole brother might be up to, and whether Cooper’s Hardware would survive another quarter. That second mortgage he’d taken out six years ago to cover the shortfall his brother’s scheming had created was taking a toll on the store’s bottom line.

He’d be in better shape if he hadn’t had to shell out for a new roof last year. And yeah, okay, if he hadn’t let a few people slide on their tutoring tabs. But those students had recruited others who had managed to cough up the fees, so Gil had chalked that up to clever marketing.

His knee started to pulse. He didn’t remember banging it, but no surprise that he had. He rubbed absently at the ache. Damn, he was tired.

A breeze pushed past, dropping off a tiny yellow bloom and the scent of grilled hamburger. His stomach heaved a wistful sigh and he hoped to hell he had something edible in the fridge. He hadn’t lingered at the bar long after Kerry had dropped that glass. He’d jumped up to help, then realized how asinine that would look. Anyway, she seemed to have it under control. He didn’t know what the hell had happened, but as soon as Sheriff Suazo had walked in, crash.

“Damn it,” Gil muttered. It had taken him long enough to get over his last girlfriend. Why would he consider angling for another? Especially one so obviously out of his league?

When his stomach rumbled, he smacked a hand down on the step digging into his ribs. Turkey. He had deli turkey in the fridge. Swiss cheese, too, and the soft rye he liked because the crusts weren’t too dry.

And beer. He had plenty of beer.

But what he was really hungry for had long, thick brown hair gathered into a ponytail and big, green, wary eyes. The wariness intrigued him and though he didn’t know her, it concerned him, too. Her curves were generous, and ridiculously tempting, and despite seeming more nervous than a novice driver during rush hour, she carried herself with a mesmerizing grace.

Unlike you, asshole. Stop daydreaming and get moving.

He pushed himself up and continued climbing. Let himself in and tossed his keys at the table just inside the door. They missed the basket, rattled across the polished wood and landed on the floor. “Nice shot,” he muttered.

No need to turn on the light—the floods on the outside of the store provided plenty. He rounded the table and bent to scoop up his keys, and spotted the mobile alarm clock he hadn’t been in the mood to chase that morning. With the two oversize rubber wheels on either side of a small white plastic body, and two buttons positioned like eyes, the thing reminded him of Princess Leia. It chirped and beeped like an overcaffeinated R2-D2.

“There you are, clock-bot.” He reached under the table and snatched it up. “Why are you hiding? Tell me you didn’t eat my turkey.”

His cell rang, and he frowned at the unfamiliar number on the screen. “Hello?

“How’s it hanging, G?”

Gil swallowed an oath. He lurched at the wall and slapped around until he found the light switch. The inside floods did their thing and he blinked in the sudden brilliance.

“I understand you’ve been talking with Valerie Flick,” Gil said tightly.

“She’s been trying to negotiate a deal with me since she got her real estate license. You know what kind of commission she’d get for handling the sale of Cooper’s?”

“No surprise the bottom line is all about your bottom line.”

Gil stalked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Damn it. Something reeked and he hoped to hell it wasn’t his turkey. He grabbed a beer, popped the top and settled on a stool at the butcher block island that served double duty as his dining room table. “Even if I had the money,” he ground out, “you wouldn’t get it. You know as well as I do you already got your hands on more than your fair share of the business.”

“You just can’t let it go, can you, G?”

“I can forgive, but I’m sure as hell not going to forget. Not if it means setting myself up to get fleeced again.”

“If you can say that, it means you haven’t forgiven me at all.”

Gil banged an elbow onto the island, shoved his fingers through his hair and rested his forehead on the heel of his hand. “I’m not singing this refrain with you, Ferrell. Not anymore.”

“You’re a hard man, bro. What’s the matter, no luck with your Millenium Falcon prize problems?”

Gil let loose a bitter chuckle. His brother had mashed together a Star Wars reference with the Millenium Prize, which offered one million dollars for the correct solution to any of seven unresolved math problems.

He wished he had time to concentrate on something like that. For years, he’d been fascinated by the mass gap. But he barely had time to do the books for the hardware store at night while honoring his online tutoring commitments. What he earned from tutoring kept him in groceries. And the occasional poker game.

“No,” Gil said. “No luck.” But it was Bartender Kerry’s face that floated across his brain.

He wondered where she was living now. Had her friends made room for her?

“I’m not giving up on this,” Ferrell said. “You don’t want to be there at the store any more than I like being poor.”

“So everyone says.”

“You’ll never make a go of it.”

Gil sat up and swigged his beer. “I hear that a lot, too.”

When his brother progressed to threats, Gil disconnected the call and set his phone aside.

Ferrell hadn’t sounded high, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still on drugs. Asking wouldn’t have accomplished anything.

Finally, tiredness gave way to exhaustion. Gil banged his empty bottle on the island and turned toward his bed. His sheetless bed. He’d dumped the linens in the washer before opening the store that morning and forgot all about them.

Hell. He wanted to sleep, not make the damn bed. But no way he’d catch any Zs without a sheet over his bare feet.

He yanked off his jacket, let it drop to the floor and went over to the bed. Grabbed a fresh set of sheets from underneath and tossed them onto the mattress.

With one hand, he snagged a pillowcase. With the other, he picked up a pillow with a little too much force and it ended up sailing over his shoulder. It caught the blinds beside the bed and with a rattling protest, the vertical slats popped out of alignment.

Gil bit out an oath and swung around to fix it. Through the opening he caught a glimpse of the opposite side of the street and froze.

What the—?

He pulled at the blinds, widening the gap, and pressed his nose to the glass.

In the dress shop parking lot across the street, Kerry paced behind the bumper of an older Honda. Her arms were folded across her chest as her hands rubbed fiercely at her bare arms.

What was she doing over there? And where the hell was her sweater?

She sagged against the bumper. Pushed one hand into her hair.

The blinds clattered back into place as Gil lunged for his jacket.

* * *

WITH A FRUSTRATED MOAN, Kerry dug in the side pocket of her purse for her cell phone. Way to go, chickie. Not even twenty-four hours in the apartment and already she was calling Eugenia for help. At eleven thirty at night.

Her brand-spanking-new landlady would not be impressed.

She dropped her purse on the trunk, sagged down onto the bumper and reluctantly thumbed through her contacts. It could have been worse. She could have been making this call at two in the morning. Though the reason Snoozy had sent her home early was hardly something to celebrate.

She had to do better.

A scuffing sound had her jerking to her feet. With liquid knees, she squinted through the late-night gloom.

Gil Cooper loped toward her, blond hair flopping, glasses glinting as he passed under a street lamp. The lean, muscled ease of his movements was a clear contrast to the gracelessness he’d shown at the bar. The disparity intrigued her, while his undemanding smile provided an instant balm to her frustration.

Despite the heavy pull of a plaintiveness she was damned tired of feeling, she straightened her spine.

“Hey,” she said.

He stopped a few paces away and gave his head a shake when he had to catch his breath. “Now you know I’m out of shape.”

An exaggeration if she’d ever heard one. Still, she rested her free hand on one well-padded hip. “Who am I to judge?”

His gaze dropped, and even in the anemic glow of the dress shop’s outdoor lights she could see the smolder. She couldn’t help a rush of gratification, even as she acknowledged he wouldn’t look at her that way if he knew what she’d done.

He held out the jacket he carried. “I’m wondering if I should call the sheriff. You look like you’re casing the joint.”

Her lungs seized and she fell back a step. God. Maybe he did know. And he was still talking to her?

“What?” she croaked.

The amusement leaked from his expression. “Bad joke.”

She pulled in a breath. “I’m staying in Eugenia Blue’s apartment.”

“I figured that.” He pushed the jacket into her hands. “Either she didn’t warn you about the cool spring nights in Castle Creek or you forgot your sweater at the bar.”

She took her time tucking her phone into her back pocket, then accepted his jacket with a lofty air. “Or maybe I’m conducting an experiment.”

His eyes lit up. “What kind of experiment?”

“The kind that involves postdusk lake proximal air and...and the exposed skin of a—” she floundered “—Southern urban-type female.”

His lips twitched. “Your conclusion?”

“Goose bumps are a natural phenomenon that cannot be considered region-dependent.”

“You speak geek.”

“I used to work for a software development firm.” Why did you go there?

“I don’t have my keys,” she added quickly. “I was about to break the news to Eugenia.”

“No need.” He dangled a braided plastic key ring. “Eugenia and I exchanged keys when she first opened her store. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you hung on to this until you find yours.”

“Thank you,” Kerry breathed, and offered an apologetic nod as she took the key ring. “That’s twice you’ve rescued me tonight.”

“I don’t think you were in any danger of freezing to death.”

“I meant back at the bar, when you saved me from demolishing Snoozy’s entire supply of hurricane glasses.” She grimaced. “Three martini glasses and a brandy snifter weren’t quite so lucky. That’s why he sent me home early. I think he was afraid if I stayed, I’d start working my way through the liquor bottles.”

“He didn’t fire you, did he?”

The alarm in his voice touched her. “No,” she said. “But he probably should have.”

When she shuddered, he mistook it for cold. “You should go in.”

Yes. She should. She didn’t want to, but she should. She forced herself to take a step away from the car, then another, until finally she turned and started toward the metal staircase that led up to the second-story apartment.

He followed. “Sorry you had such a rough day.” Something about the way he said it...

She paused at the bottom of the stairs. “You, too?”

“Let’s just say that ten minutes ago, I was seriously considering heading back to the bar. For another beer, I mean,” he added hastily.

She snorted. “You’d have probably had to drink it out of a to-go cup.”

When she made to shrug out of his jacket, he stopped her with a quick squeeze of her forearm. “Why don’t you wait till we get to the top? Sometimes the key sticks.”

Kerry managed a nod and led the way up, her palms going slick as she grew overly aware of the brush of his jacket’s sleeves across the bare skin of her arms, the chill of the night air soothing her blush, his solidness at her back.

Would he kiss her?

When they reached the top of the stairs, she unlocked the door and turned to face him. “Thank you for looking out for me,” she said huskily.

“Don’t even. It was my pleasure.” He lifted an arm, but by the time she realized he was only gesturing her over the threshold, she was already stepping in for a hug.

She slid her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead to his chest. A telltale cylindrical bump revealed the presence of a pen in his shirt pocket and she almost laughed out loud. Or maybe that was from the pleasure of touching him.

Not that she should be touching him. But God, it felt good. His back was warm and hard beneath her palms, his chest a tantalizing sanctuary of firm muscle over bone. He smelled like sunshine and maple syrup, and it kicked off a hunger that had nothing to do with pancakes.

For long seconds his arms hung awkwardly. Then he raised his hands to her shoulder blades. She fought the need to free one of her own hands and press it to her heart, where an actual ache had set in. Instead she lifted her head and nestled against his throat. His skin was cool from the night air, and the almost irresistible urge to taste him left her trembling. The ache had spread, traveling east and west to her nipples, which were smashed enticingly against his chest, and south to her belly. The ache was seriously considering venturing even lower, where a dangerous heat had already started to build. The attraction was one part physical, one part remedial and two parts situational.

Free. She was free.

Free to find herself unable to let go of him.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “This feels good.”

Good? This was pure bliss.

“You can say that again,” he rumbled, and this time the cylindrical shape pressing against her was not an inanimate object.

A thrill shot through her. At the same time she shoved back a step and ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. “Pathetic, I know, but I don’t remember the last time someone hugged me.”

“So what you’re saying is, nothing personal?”

“How can it be?” she said lightly. She hunched her shoulders under his jacket, suddenly wishing she could keep it. A flash of brass gleamed as the zipper caught the light. “We just met.”

“I’m glad we did.”

The conviction in his voice pushed her back another step. “I won’t be in Castle Creek for long.” She reached behind her and swept a hand up the wall. Light from inside the apartment illumined the stark need on his face and she went still. An answering need surged into her chest, like the foam of a poorly poured Guinness, and she pushed the words out before she could second-guess them. “But I’ll be here long enough to share a drink with you before you go back across the street. You know, to toast the end of what has been a sucky day for us both.”

“That’s not much of a trade.” His words were all grumble, but the low-pressure kind.

“It could be,” she said archly. “I mean, it depends on what’s in the fridge.”

He laughed out loud, then shot her a curious glance. “Wait, you don’t know what’s in your own fridge?”

“I just moved in today. I never had the chance to look.”

“Knowing Eugenia, there’s probably enough provisions in there to last a month. She likes to be prepared.”

“We could check it out together,” she said, not quite managing a casual tone. “Or if you need to go now, I’ll make sure the next time you’re here I can tell you exactly what’s on offer.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“To drink,” she added. She was too distracted to be embarrassed because, of course, there wouldn’t be a next time. Living in an everyone-knows-your-name location like Castle Creek guaranteed it wouldn’t be long before he’d heard every last detail of her sordid story. Was she so wrong to want to savor each moment before he did?

“I could definitely use something wet,” he said.

It was Kerry’s turn to laugh out loud. “Then follow me.” She winked. “To the kitchen.”

“That’s as good a place as any.”

With a shake of her head, Kerry led him through the living room and dining room to the kitchen, which overlooked both the side parking lot and the street. Their teasing had diffused the tension. She would offer the man a drink, share a few more laughs with him and send him on his way. Yes, being in his arms had helped ease the relentless ache of her father’s rejection, but using him to temporarily forget her problems was not the way to go about rehabilitating herself.

“This is great,” he said behind her. “My space seems bigger, but maybe that’s because—” He stopped.

Kerry turned and leaned back against the refrigerator, the immaculate white enamel cold and unyielding against her spine. She tipped her head as he hesitated in the kitchen doorway. “Because you’re lonely?”

They stared at each other across the small space. Gil’s jaw had gone tight, his narrowed gaze focused on Kerry’s face. Her breathing got desperate and his gaze dropped to her chest. Color invaded his cheeks and a shimmering warmth flooded her belly.

Something shifted in the sink—the spoon she’d used for coffee, maybe—and the sudden metallic clatter had the effect of a starter pistol on Gil. He was across the room in two strides and shoving his own jacket off Kerry’s shoulders. His hands followed the sleeves down her arms until he reached her hips.

Meanwhile his mouth... Holy Hannah, his mouth. He used it to get acquainted with her neck, then her jaw, alternately kissing and rubbing, using the occasional scrape of teeth and touch of tongue to build a frenzy of anticipation. She wanted that mouth on hers. Now.

She moaned with impatience and he chuckled against her skin. But he didn’t move on to her lips. His fingers, on the other hand—on both hands—never hesitated to get up close and personal. They roved and squeezed, roved and squeezed, from her butt to her hips to her ribs. He had her shoulder blades pinned to the refrigerator and her pelvis pressed to his.

She couldn’t help swiveling against him. He hissed in a breath, yanked his glasses from his face and set them on top of the fridge.

“I need your hands on me,” he gritted. He bent his knees and whipped the jacket from her wrists, then straightened and dropped his mouth to hers.

Finally.

He kissed her deeply, earnestly, stealing her breath along with coherent thought as hot ripples of pleasure hijacked every muscle. He tasted like malt and smelled like early morning on the lake and every last one of her nerve endings writhed with need.

And warning.

The warning part she chose to ignore. The need part she embraced wholeheartedly. She dug her fingers into his back and dragged them all the way up to his neck. He gave his blessing with a groan, tightening his hold on her hips. She gripped his shoulders, reveling in the feel of solid muscle as he plundered her mouth.

When his hands slid over her ribs and cupped the sides of her breasts, she bucked against him. His grip faltered momentarily, and a sliver of common sense wormed its way between them.

She ripped her mouth away from his and took deep, gulping inhalations. She clutched his wrists. “Are we really doing this?”

He shuddered as he fought to catch his own breath. He swallowed then rested his chin on the crown of her head.

“Yes?” he answered hopefully.

Her nerves jangled with anticipation.

“But if you’re having second thoughts, we should have that drink you offered and talk about it.”

She laughed unsteadily. “Because alcohol will clear our heads?”

Slowly Gil pulled his arms away and moved back. “Juice, then.”

She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. Why had she opened her mouth?

“I don’t make a habit of this,” she said.

“Neither do I. Which explains why we’re feeling awkward.”

“Let’s revisit the drinks idea, then.” She pushed away from the fridge and opened the door. A jug of tea, a half gallon of milk and five bottles of beer.

Her father’s brand.

Bottles rattled as she swung the door shut again. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He ran a hand through his hair and it gave her pause. He looked younger without his glasses. Or maybe she was feeling older. Having a sense of adventure used to be so much more appealing.

A year ago she’d learned how terrifying the consequences of that could be.

Gil continued to back to the far side of the kitchen until he leaned against the counter. He curled his fingers over the edge. “Adding milk to my coffee without checking the expiration date this morning was not a good idea. Climbing a ladder with a stack of weed whacker spools in one hand and a hot cup of coffee in the other was nowhere near a good idea. This right here, with you and me...this is the best damned idea I’ve had in months.”

“It’s been a while for me, too,” she said softly.

“The hug pretty much gave that away.” He gave a graceless sort of one-shoulder shrug. “I’m happy to help you brush up. You know, so next time you don’t embarrass yourself.”

“Yes, please,” she said.

He blinked and pushed upright.

This time she met him halfway. He folded her against him, swung her around and laid her carefully on the kitchen table. She begged him not to be gentle with her again, and he wasn’t. Not on the table, or against the dining room wall, or even when he had her bent over the back of the living room sofa.

If she’d been looking for punishment, she hadn’t found it. Never had she climaxed so hard, or so loudly. Never had she laughed so often, or given so much pleasure.

The punishment came when he finally left the bed, and she knew he wouldn’t be back.

* * *

WITH A GROAN, Gil sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. He recognized that ringtone and was tempted to ignore it. Especially since he’d managed maybe two hours of sleep the night before.

Images of why he hadn’t managed much sleep flickered through his mind, like someone thumbing through a deck of X-rated playing cards. Damn, he’d had fun. Kerry had been sweet and giving, and once they’d gotten that first furious coupling behind them, she’d relaxed, and revealed a ready, husky laugh that had charmed him, and a relentless hunger that had flattered him.





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