Книга - A Family After All

A Family After All
Kathy Altman


He wants forever. She wants right now.Ivy Millbrook isn't interested in happily-ever-after. The only thing she wants from Seth Walker is no-strings-attached fun. Too bad Seth is holding out for the white picket fence. As a single father of two, he is the epitome of commitment and the complete opposite of Ivy. They're at a standstill.The situation intensifies when Seth insists on helping Ivy save her dairy farm. With the kids in tow, working together isn't easy. But is the prospect of losing each other forever enough to push them toward a compromise?







He wants forever. She wants right now.

Ivy Millbrook isn’t interested in happily-ever-after. The only thing she wants from Seth Walker is no-strings-attached fun. Too bad Seth is holding out for the white picket fence. As a single father of two, he is the epitome of commitment and the complete opposite of Ivy. They’re at a standstill.

The situation intensifies when Seth insists on helping Ivy save her dairy farm. With the kids in tow, working together isn’t easy. But is the prospect of losing each other forever enough to push them toward a compromise?


She jerked away from him.

The warmth sparked by his you deserve love comment vanished faster than an apple under Cabana Boy’s nose. “You don’t know that.” Ivy’s hang-up when it came to kids might not be rational, but she had her reasons—reasons she didn’t plan on sharing with Seth.

“You don’t know me,” she continued.

“You won’t let me.”

“But there are so many incredible things I will let you do.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “Come on. This is about more than sex. You like me. You look forward to my visits. We have fun together. My kids don’t bite.” He flashed a grin that weakened her knees all over again. Damn that dimple. “All right, they do, but not often, and never when there’s a chance they’ll talk someone into playing Uno. Look, you have a lot in common. All three of you love horses, hate brussels sprouts and live to cause me grief. Why not give this a shot?”

“Because I’m looking for sex, not a happy-ever-after.”


Dear Reader (#ulink_82c13e6f-77a4-5cf4-bce5-3c1cf3923f64),

Welcome back to Castle Creek! You may remember Seth and Ivy from Staying at Joe’s. Seth’s a feed store owner and single father of two who has a thing for Ivy, a flirty dairy farmer. Unfortunately, Ivy’s not a forever kind of girl, and since Seth is done with casual, that means a happy ending just isn’t in the cards for these two.

At least, it wasn’t until I wrote their story.

Compromise is the name of the game here. Compromise, and adjusting expectations. While Ivy struggles to convince Seth he’s asking too much of her, she gradually realizes she’s asking too little of herself. And though Seth’s kids are everything to him, he begins to understand that keeping Ivy in their lives could be the best thing he’s ever done for them—and the only way he himself will be happy. Concession can be tough, but it can also win you the love of your life.

So let the games begin.

I hope you enjoy Seth and Ivy’s story as much as I enjoyed finally getting them together! I adore hearing from readers, so please feel free to email me at kathy@kathyaltman.com. And hey, drop me a note if you’re interested in Ivy’s cheesecake recipe—the recipe takes a little effort, but I promise it’s worth it!

Thank you so much for coming back to Castle Creek!

All my best,

Kathy Altman


A Family After All

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 USA TODAY’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 my sister Mary.

I can thank you for making the long drive, and for the frosty walks from the hotel to the hospital and back again, and for the hot chocolates, and the cheerfulness, and the hugs and the prayers, but I can never thank you enough for simply knowing I’d need you.

You’re all kinds of amazing.


Acknowledgments (#ulink_536cb575-7829-59b3-aa6a-f83e79cdb095)

My most earnest thanks to Toni Anderson, who unfailingly supports me, guides me, cheers me, challenges me and sets the bar so darned high; and to Robin Allen, who generously plies her expertise at beta reading and proofing pages and taps her foot when I’m not writing fast enough. What would I do without you two to share this writing life with?

My deepest gratitude to my family, for your never-ending support and patience.

I’d also like to thank Mills & Boon editor Claire Caldwell for taking good care of me—I look forward to working with you on the next one!

And many, many thanks to the readers who appreciate happy endings as much as I do. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for you.

Big, squeezy hugs to you all!


Contents

Cover (#u78c68318-f02f-59d3-aaca-15916c3e299a)

Back Cover Text (#u78c68318-f02f-59d3-aaca-15916c3e299a)

Introduction (#ua6c18556-6bf8-5471-926d-b54bb7aaa5b3)

Dear Reader (#u1a2a752c-1b64-5d5a-bd3b-d0336be85fec)

Title Page (#u96cbe55c-7aca-5f06-a6df-a97a123c9977)

About the Author (#u7d3f20e4-633b-5601-9350-c50dff6b919c)

Dedication (#udbada73f-11fd-5d89-8ced-e0f873ee4be3)

Acknowledgments (#ulink_32d020c5-c45e-5362-9b98-d74103cb4e30)

CHAPTER ONE (#ue327ab98-5750-5f15-b92c-1765ecd7da67)

CHAPTER TWO (#u2107c7fe-ef05-5183-82a7-79ef8b905c6f)

CHAPTER THREE (#uddf9d594-2847-5b4c-a38a-4c1840ee185d)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_fa27fbcc-10a8-5bac-acc4-d767f431ce90)

SETH WALKER CURSED a streak bluer than the truck’s oil-heavy exhaust as he slid out from under the chassis and blinked in the morning sun. Dammit. This was not going to be an easy repair. He’d have to call the garage. Arrange a tow. And figure out how the hell he was going to manage to pay for either when his bank account balance hovered somewhere between pathetic and desperate.

He plucked his shades from his shirt pocket, jammed them back into place and reached for his phone. He’d find a way. If he didn’t have a truck, he couldn’t make his deliveries. And if he couldn’t make his deliveries, he couldn’t see Ivy.

The clutch in his chest had him shaking his head. Maybe that would be a good thing, considering what he planned to tell her.

Then again, maybe she wouldn’t care.

After dialing the garage, he lifted the phone to his ear and turned away from the road. Traffic was sparse, but the occasional passing car still made it difficult to hear. He wandered to the edge of a vineyard that stretched all the way to Lake Erie, a hazy strip of blue in the distance bordered by the lighter blue of the sky and the vibrant green of the grapevines. Off to the left, a yellow monster of a harvester straddled a row of vines. As it lumbered through the crop, it shook the purple grapes onto a conveyer belt that led to a massive storage bin in the back. Seth had been up close and personal with a harvester more than once while making his deliveries, and he didn’t know how the drivers did it. They had to climb a ladder just to get to the cab. He liked his steering wheels closer to the ground.

He made arrangements for a tow while breathing in the sweet scent of Concord juice, pressed End and dialed again. One call down, two to go.

His thumb hovered over the send button. He exhaled. Screw pride. All he had to do to save himself the cost of a rental was call in a favor. And suck up the ribbing next time he got together with the guys.

Joe Gallahan answered the phone, saying, “Your ass better not be backing out of poker night, ’cause I’m feeling lucky.”

“You’re feeling lucky ’cause you’re getting lucky.”

“Hey, that’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, well, she’s lucky, too.”

Joe snorted. “I can feel myself being hit up for a favor.”

“You always were a sensitive kind of guy.”

“Kiss my ass. Now, what do you need?”

Less than a minute later, Joe had agreed to lend out his truck for the two to three days it would take the mechanic to fix Seth’s ride.

“Hang tight,” Joe said. “I’m on my way.”

Two down, one to go.

Bradley answered on the first ring. “’Sup.”

“Try again,” Seth growled.

A protracted sigh, then, “Tweedy’s Feed and Seed, how may I help you?”

“Better.”

“Dude. Why do I have to answer your calls like that? You’re the owner. You should know the name of your own business by now.”

“Cute.” Seth turned back to his truck. If only he could afford to abandon the damned thing. “I’m stuck at the side of Route 5, waiting for a tow. The brake line’s leaking. Joe’s going to lend us his pickup so we can handle deliveries until Pete can breathe life back into Bertha here.”

“That sucks. About Bertha, I mean, not about Joe.”

“Point is, I’ll be late getting back to the store. You okay watching the kids till I get there?”

“Not a prob. Or you could let me make the deliveries.”

“I got it.”

“You sure? Because I don’t mind. Anyway, isn’t it my turn to deliver to the dairy farm?”

In your dreams, kid. “You don’t get a turn at the dairy farm.”

“I used to. And, dude, I know Ivy misses me. Just the other day, she told me how much she misses me. I saw her at the post office and she came up to me and said, ‘Oh, Bradley—’” the kid started talking in a high-pitched voice, though God only knew why he added the Southern accent “‘—I’ve missed you so much, Bradley, you big, strong, handsome hunk of man, you—’” Abruptly, Bradley switched back to his normal voice. “Sorry, Mrs. Macfarland, I didn’t see you standing there. Weed killer? Try aisle three.” He got back on the phone. “Awk-ward.”

Seth didn’t know whether to laugh or groan, so he did both. “Stop tormenting my customers. And don’t forget to dust.”

“Give my love to Ivy,” Bradley said, and disconnected.

Not long after, Joe pulled up. Seth climbed into the passenger seat and stuck out his hand. “I appreciate this.”

“No sweat. I can always use Allison’s car if I need to run errands.”

“How’s she doing?”

As he pulled back out onto the highway, Joe gave his head a shake that failed to dislodge his goofy grin. “She’s great,” he said. “Just great.”

“Glad to hear it. I know the motel’s doing well. Whenever I drive by, the parking lot’s full.”

“That website she put together is really bringing in the business.”

“The renovations must have helped, too. I still hear horror stories about the turquoise ceilings.”

“Bet you hear more about the python behind the wall.”

Seth didn’t have to fake his shudder. “I’d rather talk about the ceilings.”

“I know what you’d rather talk about. Or should I say who. Ivy still thinking about opening a riding school?”

Seth frowned. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Allison. Ivy asked her advice on creating an ‘online presence.’” Joe glanced over at Seth and winced. “Damn, man, I’m sorry. I figured you knew. You’re at the farm all the time.”

“I’m at the farm when I have a delivery to make.”

“That’s all there is to it?”

“She’s determined to keep things casual.” Which was a never-ending source of frustration for him. They’d met a year ago, when he and his kids had moved to town and he’d taken over the feed store. The tall blonde fascinated him. She was industrious, smart, sexy and playful—a constant tease to the deliberate side of his personality. Unfortunately, she was also determined to keep their relationship shallow. He’d been just as determined to coax her toward the deep end.

But some things weren’t meant to be. Like his marriage, which had ended two years earlier. Maybe it was just as well Ivy wasn’t into forever, because his kids were still struggling to deal.

Joe’s next words reinforced that notion. “Between your kids, your store and that cranky-ass truck of yours, it sounds like you have your hands full anyway.”

Seth grunted. “So does she.” A riding school. When would she find time to run a school? The woman worked too damned hard as it was.

What really bothered him was that she hadn’t mentioned it. Yeah, they kept it laid-back, but over the past several months they’d talked about everything from the nutritional value of the cottonseed in her cows’ feed to the healing properties of oral sex. His groin perked up at the phrase. Down, boy.

They never talked much about his kids, though. And that was the thing.

His kids came first.

Joe turned into the crumbling asphalt lot of his motel, Sleep at Joe’s. Seth smirked, even as wistfulness whispered through him. Joe and Allison had gotten back together in the spring after a year apart. He doubted there was a lot of sleeping going on.

He met up with Joe on the sidewalk in front of the truck and offered his hand again. “Thanks. I’ll take good care of her.”

“You’re welcome. And yeah, you will.”

“Anything I can do in return, you let me know.” Seth waved at Allison, a curvy blonde who was working at the other end of the motel, spreading mulch around the base of a young tree. She returned his wave and blew Joe a kiss before turning back to her yard work.

Seth gave his head a mournful shake. “I get a kiss and you get a wave? What’d you do, leave the toilet seat up again?”

“Smart-ass. The kiss was for me.” Joe pushed him off the sidewalk and trailed him to the driver’s side. “You heading out to Ivy’s now?”

Seth gestured toward the empty truck bed and opened his door. “I need to get back to the store and load up first.”

Joe slammed the door shut after Seth had buckled himself in. “Hey, I thought of something you can do for me,” he said through the open window.

“Name it.”

“Spring for some decent beer for poker night.”

Seth raised an eyebrow. “What do you care?”

“That cheap-ass crap you buy gives everyone else gas. I may have quit drinking, but I still have to breathe.”

* * *

IVY MILLBROOK SHOULD have been working. Instead she was staring at the backside of the man she’d lusted after since the day he’d moved to Castle Creek.

A year was a long time to go hungry, but Seth was tougher than a cheap cut of meat. Since her livestock needed feed and Seth was the only game in town, Ivy had no choice but to respect his preference to sit tight as friends.

Plus, he was a genuinely nice guy. Damn him.

When he turned and caught her staring, the flare of heat in his brown eyes stirred up a jittery warmth in her belly. But then he looked away, and a squeeze of panic put a hitch in her breathing. He had something on his mind. Something she probably wouldn’t want to hear. She squinted up at him as he shifted on the truck bed, surrounded by flecks of dust floating in the afternoon sun, straw rustling beneath his boots. What the heck had happened to the laid-back, naughty camaraderie they usually shared?

He lifted his ball cap away from his hair and swiped an arm across his forehead, resettled his hat and finally returned her stare, his own gaze reflecting half amusement, half frustration and half speculation.

She frowned. Wait. That was too many halves. But with all those gorgeous man muscles mere inches from her nose, no one could blame her for not being able to do the math.

“Ivy,” he said.

“Seth,” she drawled, proud of the lack of urgency in her tone.

He propped a boot on the nearest hay bale. Despite the green-apple crispness of the October day, he was sweating. And no wonder, considering he’d already unloaded most of her order—and hers was not the first delivery of the day. His long-sleeved cotton shirt clung to impressive pecs, and the deepened rhythm of his breathing had her wishing that she, and not hard labor, had made him pant. An explicit mental image of just how she might achieve that shoved her own lung action toward the red zone. A swell of lust left her fidgeting. She shifted her thighs against the ache and Seth made a growling sound of impatience.

“Are you going to just stand there eyeing my ass, or are you going to help?”

The warning behind his words kept her from pointing out that he’d turned around. It was no longer his ass claiming her attention.

“Help,” she said.

Not realizing she was answering his question, he crouched on the truck bed and held out a gloved hand, jaw firm, eyes distant. Seemed Seth Walker was in no mood to play today.

“You can push the rest of these bales onto the tailgate while I finish unloading.”

Ivy sighed. “Fine.” She stepped onto the bumper and let him haul her up beside him. She pressed her palm against his chest to steady herself and had only an instant to appreciate his solid, sweaty warmth before he jumped to the ground. He hefted a bale as if it weighed no more than his battered ball cap and swung toward the barn.

“Where is Wade, anyway?”

“Home with his wife,” she called after him, her gaze lingering on a very fine rear view. She exhaled, pictured his handsome face and sucked in her bottom lip. What had put that furrow between his brows?

No matter what was troubling him, she’d only make it worse by letting him do all the work. She pulled her gloves from the back pocket of her jeans. As she stuffed her hands into the scarred leather, a gust of autumn air skated past the pickup, carrying the comforting scents of meadow grass and manure, lifting her bangs off her forehead. Pride surged. She scanned the fields of her Pennsylvania farm, waves of vibrant green lolling under a thin, hazy streak of Lake Erie blue.

Seth emerged from the barn, one eyebrow lifted. With a squeak Ivy lunged forward and started shoving.

He leaned an arm on the nearest bale and she noticed his faded navy Henley was ripped at the elbow. “Becky still recovering from her accident?”

She stopped pushing, flipped her braid back over her shoulder and nodded. “He’s working fewer hours until he’s confident he can leave her on her own.” It was proving to be rough handling Wade’s chores on top of hers, but at this particular moment she was grateful for her farm manager’s absence. It was nice having Seth all to herself.

Even if they had strayed from their routine. Usually they took their time, engaging in nonstop innuendos and dirty jokes. It was why he always saved her stop for last. They’d end the visit with his asking her out and her asking him to bed. Both knew nothing would come of it. Seth didn’t do casual, so Ivy didn’t do Seth. Because she was all about casual.

But as much as their sexual standoff frustrated her—and drove her to ride her own fingers almost every night—she looked forward to their time together. He respected her. Challenged her. Cheered her.

At least he had until today. He was probably just tired. The man worked harder than she did. And he was a single father of two.

“I’m sorry she’s not doing well.” Seth gripped the twine binding the nearest bale and tugged it toward him. “I’d heard the accident wasn’t serious. Just the one car involved, right?”

“She broke her collarbone.”

Ivy must not have managed to keep the cynicism out of her voice, because Seth cocked his head. “And?”

“And...it’s a collarbone. Collarbones heal.” She wondered at the relief that skated across Seth’s face. Sweet of him to worry about a woman he didn’t even know. “But I think Becky’s gotten used to having Wade around the house. And I think he likes feeling needed.”

“So a husband misses his wife. What’s wrong with that?”

“I need him, too,” she said, and cringed at the petulance in her tone.

Seth dipped his head and looked up through his lashes. Good God, the man had gorgeous eyes. “You’re not thinking about breaking your own collarbone, are you?”

She rolled her eyes, watched as he hoisted the bale and blurted, “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Miss your wife?”

He stopped, adjusted his grip and headed for the barn. “Ex-wife,” she heard him mutter.

Guess that meant she wouldn’t get an answer. She was still trying to decide whether to press the issue when Seth reappeared. Quickly, she leaned over again and braced her hands on another bale, feeling like a football player performing preseason drills. She slid the bundle over to Seth but didn’t straighten, liking that his face, with its stubbled jaw and concerned expression, was so close to her own.

“Hey, what’s with the sign?” he asked.

She knew what he meant. The big fancy Millbrook Dairy Farm sign at the end of the driveway had become the pet project of some smart-ass with artistic skills. He—or she—liked to monkey with the middle word. Currently the sign read Millbrook Funny Farm. The moniker probably had Ivy’s father rolling over in his grave, but it was fairly accurate.

“I’ve decided to stop wasting energy trying to fix it,” she said. “At least it’s always G-rated. Though I have to admit, I didn’t much like the Fat Farm edition.”

Seth grunted, took off one glove and freed a hunk of hay. “You got someone seeing to Wade’s work while he’s gone?”

In her dreams. “Yes.”

His gaze narrowed. “So you don’t need help picking up the slack?”

“You offering to stop by more often? Give me a hand when I need it? Or—” she propped her chin in her palm, arched her back and gently swayed her hips, enjoying the stretch of the muscles at the backs of her thighs “—maybe there’s another body part you’d be willing to contribute to the cause.”

Seth slapped a palm down on the hay bale. “Need to get this inside,” he said.

His voice carried an edge. She peered at him, watched his gaze flick from her face to the front of the truck, saw the color streak his cheekbones and glanced behind her. Oh. Oh. It wasn’t the front of the truck that had snagged his attention but her reflection in the sliding window. With her chest nearly touching the hay bale and her ass in the air, her position seemed somewhat...suggestive.

It was affecting him.

And now it was affecting her.

She straightened slowly and treated herself to an unhurried inspection of some serious muscles. “You’re looking flushed,” she managed. “Too much sun, I expect. How about a beer?”

“Love one.” He swallowed and with a tilt of his chin indicated his pickup. “But this thing won’t drive itself.”

“So stay.”

“You know that’s not going to happen.”

Yeah. She did. She shrugged. “Why’re you driving Joe’s truck?”

“My brakes are shot.”

“On your pickup?” A curt nod. “You couldn’t use your box truck?”

“Didn’t have that many deliveries to make. Anyway, the box truck uses too much gas for everyday use.”

She frowned. “Business okay?”

“No.”

Her stomach dropped, but his next words made it clear his “No” had nothing to do with her question.

He removed his ball cap again. The brown hair plastered to his skull looked black. “We’re not going to just step over this and keep on walking. Not again. We’ve been circling each other for a year. But we both know it’s not going to happen. We want different things. And neither one of us will get it unless we back away from each other.”

“How do you know I’m not getting it?” she asked archly.

Her face heated under his steady gaze. “Point is,” he continued, “while we’re doing whatever this is we’re doing, I haven’t felt free to see anyone else.”

“But you want to.”

He moved to the side and held out a gloved hand, offering to help her jump down. When her boots hit the ground, she almost dropped to her knees, which were suddenly and inconveniently loose. He stared down at her.

“I’m looking at the woman I want to date. You’ve made it clear that won’t happen.”

“You want more than I can give.”

“How about what I can give? You don’t think you deserve love, but you do.”

Oh, God.

When she didn’t—couldn’t—respond, he tapped a knuckle under her chin. “This thing about not wanting kids...it doesn’t make sense. They arrive by the bus full and you enjoy the tours as much as they do. If you’d just give it a chance—”

She jerked away from him, the warmth sparked by his “you deserve love” comment vanishing faster than an apple under her stallion’s nose. “You don’t know that.” Her hang-up when it came to kids might not be rational, but she had her reasons—reasons she didn’t plan on sharing with anyone, let alone Seth.

“You don’t know me,” she continued.

“You won’t let me.”

“But there are so many incredible things I will let you do.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “Come on. This is about more than sex. You like me. You look forward to my visits. We have fun together. My kids don’t bite.” He flashed a grin that threatened her knees all over again. Damn that dimple. “All right, they do, but not often, and never when there’s a chance they’ll talk someone into playing Uno. Look, you have a lot in common. All three of you love horses, hate Brussels sprouts and live to cause me grief. Why not give this a shot?”

“Because I’m looking for sex, not a happy-ever-after.”

“Got it.” He put his hat back on and reached again for the hay bale, his motions smooth but his stubble-roughened jaw as hard as the steel toes of his work boots. “Olivia over at the DMV has been asking me out for a while now. Guess I’ll take her up on it. Maybe it would be better for both of us if I split your deliveries with Bradley.”

“Did you warn him about me? Tell him not to turn his back on the cougar at the dairy farm?” She was being unfair. She wasn’t winning any points, either—there was no mistaking the disgust in Seth’s expression.

Time to pretend the past fifteen seconds of conversation had never taken place, because otherwise she’d dissolve into tears right in front of him. Besides, she knew how busy the feed store kept Seth and his part-timer... Chances were their delivery schedule would stay the same.

She also did her best to ignore the sudden scorch of indignation she had no right to feel. Olivia Duncan was a petite, bubbly brunette with big breasts and a notorious affection for children, if not for their teeth. She kept a bottomless bowl of candy at her window for the kids whose parents had dragged them along on their errands. No way could Ivy compete with that, even if she wanted to.

“Wise choice,” she finally managed.

“Bradley? Or Olivia?”

“Olivia. I didn’t think Bradley was your type.”

Seth gave her a look she couldn’t interpret. “You know her?”

“Not personally. But I’m sure, after you wine and dine her once or twice, the next time you go in to renew your license she’ll wave you right up to the front of the line.”

He never cracked a smile. “It’ll be nice to have a woman put me first for a change.”

* * *

THE MOMENT HE placed his left boot on the long-faded pavement, Seth heard the arguing. Two all-too-familiar voices, raised in earsplitting fury. He shook his head and shoved the pickup door shut, heading toward the noise. If he was honest, playing referee was exactly the distraction he needed.

Damn Ivy Millbrook and her lovely blond hide.

A shriek echoed inside the building. He winced at the faded brick structure he’d owned just over a year, an investment that made him alternately proud and scared shitless. Tweedy’s Feed and Seed. The worn wooden sign was placed strategically over the strip of etched cement that read Castle Creek Fire Company No. 6.

He’d fallen hard for this two-story slice of history, with its boxy shape, bell tower and masonry arches that curved like eyebrows over tall white-framed windows. The pair of fire engine–sized bays behind white mullioned doors provided more than enough space for loading and unloading supplies. The oversize front door, capped by a battered aluminum awning striped with white and green, added a welcoming retro touch.

The rat-infested interior, Seth hadn’t been so impressed with. The old guy who’d turned the firehouse into a feed store had run it for decades before eventually getting too sick to manage it. His daughter had kept it going for a while, but she wasn’t all that young, either, and by the time Seth had come along, the place had contained more dust and droppings than merchandise.

But after everything that had happened the past few years, he’d been desperate for a distraction. He’d been wanting to get the kids out of the city anyway. The opportunity to own his own business in a country community by the lake? Too good to pass up. The weeks he’d spent hauling and scrubbing and hammering and painting—and sweating bullets at the bank—had been worth it.

Now he just had to convince his kids he’d made the right decision.

“Da-ad!” Nine-year-old Grace emerged from the nearest bay, hands steepled against her forehead to protect her eyes from the afternoon sun. She was all legs and nut-colored hair, just like her mother. He grinned through the usual hot prod of regret and pulled her into a hug. Her little body remained stiff—she wasn’t liking him much these days.

She wriggled free, her eyes on Joe’s pickup. “The truck broke down again?”

He didn’t know whether to be amused or bothered by her world-weary tone. “The brakes need work. Joe’s letting us use his until Bertha’s out of the shop.”

Her on-the-warpath gaze returned to his face. “Travis took my marker. My favorite marker. The purple one. How am I supposed to finish my project? I have to turn in a weather report and I’m drawing a rainbow and without purple it’ll look stupid and I’ll fail.” Her voice ended on a squeak shrill enough to shatter glass.

“I hear you, G, I hear you. Take it down a notch, all right? Let’s go inside and talk to your brother.”

She flounced back into the store, her bright turquoise tennis shoes smacking the concrete. Seth followed more leisurely, blinking in the dim interior. He nodded at Bradley, the lean, shaggy-haired, just-turned-twenty part-timer who’d opted out of community college in favor of another year of playing video games on his mother’s couch. He was slouched behind the counter, a bottle of glass cleaner in one hand and a smartphone in the other. Didn’t take a genius to figure out which he’d been using.

The kid might be lazy, but he had good business sense and Seth liked him. More important, Grace and Travis loved him.

“Everything good?” Seth asked. Another argument erupted from the office in the back and he grunted. “Besides the noise level, I mean?”

“Old Mr. Katz called. He’s on his last bucket of feed. Wants to know if we can make a special delivery.”

“Got time to swing by on your way home?”

“I guess.” He frowned. “You ever going to make him pay his bill?”

“That horse of his is all he has left of his farm. The odd bag of feed won’t kill me.”

“You, no. Your business, yeah. I lose this job and I won’t be able to pay my phone bill.”

“Your concern is touching,” Seth said wryly. “But I’m not going anywhere. You won’t, either—” he lifted an eyebrow at the glass cleaner in Bradley’s hand “—as long as you do your job.”

Bradley grinned, snatched up a rag and flicked at the countertop while humming in a falsetto tone.

“Smart-ass,” Seth muttered, and continued on to the office, a half-wood, half-glass corner structure left from the building’s firehouse days. A battered metal desk took up one half of the room, and waist-high shelving lined the other. In the center stood a rickety round table Seth had set up as a homework station for the kids. The school bus dropped them off about half past three and they were stuck at the store until six, when Seth closed for the day. They hadn’t been thrilled with the arrangement at first, but they’d settled into a routine—snack and playtime until four thirty, homework till closing. Most days they finished their assignments before piling into Seth’s truck for the short trek home, which meant that once dinner and cleanup were behind them, they could veg in front of the TV until tuck-in time. Traditionally, tuck-in time included hearing a chapter from whatever book they’d voted Seth should read them. Every now and then they veered off course and had a sing-along. Grace insisted she needed the practice for sixth-grade chorus tryouts.

Never mind she was still in fourth.

“Where is it?” Grace’s voice was thick with tears. “Tell me!”

Seth stalked into the office wearing his best “heads are about to roll” expression. “All right, what’s the problem here?”

“I told you,” Grace cried. She had both palms on the table and was leaning toward her brother, who sat steadily coloring, a fistful of crayons in one hand and half a chocolate bar in the other.

Dammit, Bradley. No wonder they loved his part-timer.

Grace opened her mouth again and Seth held up a finger. “I’d like to hear it from Travis.”

With a beleaguered exhale, his daughter pushed upright and crossed her arms over her chest. Seth waited. Grace fumed. Travis poked the green crayon back into his fist and plucked out a yellow.

“Travis,” Seth prodded.

His seven-year-old looked up from what appeared to be a drawing of a food fight. Chocolate ringed his mouth and it was all Seth could do not to grin. That would be fatal, though. Grace was already convinced Seth loved her brother more.

“Hey, Dad,” Travis said brightly, as if he hadn’t just been trading insults with his sister.

“Hey,” Seth drawled. “We’re looking for a purple magic marker. Have you seen it?”

Travis blinked but remained mute, his normal MO when talking would mean telling a lie. Seth gritted his teeth around a sigh. Either Travis had the marker, or he knew Grace had it and didn’t want to tattle. Lately G had taken to “losing” things in a bid for attention. Or maybe she just wanted to drive her dad crazy.

She was doing a good job of it.

Thing was, he could never tell when the tears and the drama were real. G’s pediatrician back in State College, along with Seth’s mother and his good friend Parker, who operated a nearby greenhouse and had her own challenges with a daughter who’d just turned ten, had advised him not to sweat it, assuring him it was just a phase. Decent advice, except that a week ago he’d spotted his checkbook in the recycling bin. Hard not to sweat that.

He’d reasoned, scolded, pleaded and suspended all kinds of privileges. He understood his daughter’s frustration. Still, there had to be a better way for her to express it.

Back to the matter at hand. His son had resumed his coloring, the tilt of his white-blond head casual, his grip on the crayon anything but. “Travis isn’t talking, G. How about we all look for it together?”

“I don’t have time,” she whined. “I need it now.”

“Can you use a different color?”

She dropped her arms and snatched up her drawing, a tidy rendition of a rainbow arching behind a soggy pair of trees and a horse. She stabbed a finger at the innermost arch of the rainbow, currently colorless, and shot him a look that screamed, Duh!

He surveyed the markers scattered across the table. “If you mix red and blue, you get purple. Maybe use red, then color over it with blue?”

“Good idea,” Bradley said behind him. G’s shoulders lost some of their height, though she shot a dirty look at her brother.

“Whatever,” she muttered. She grabbed the red marker and dropped into her chair.

Seth turned away and bumped knuckles with Bradley. “Remind me to give you a raise.”

“You can’t afford it.” He shoved a message pad at Seth. As per usual, there were more doodles than writing on the paper. “Pete Lowry called again. He needs another payment for the work he did on the truck.”

This was the work he’d done the last time Bertha was in the shop.

“I’ll take care of it.” Somehow. Seth noticed Bradley fighting a grin. “Something else on your mind?”

“Olivia Duncan’s on the phone again. Want me to take a message?”

Seth pictured the curvy brunette with the open smile and kind eyes. Last time they’d talked, she’d offered to arrange a picnic lunch for Seth and the kids. Sandwiches and Frisbee by the lake.

“You three should enjoy the beach more often,” she’d said. Like a normal family, she’d meant.

He glanced over his shoulder at his kids, one secretive, the other sullen. Thought of the hell they’d been through the past few years.

They could use some normal.

His brain flashed from Olivia to Ivy, whose elegance, beauty, stubbornness and lusty sense of humor were far from ordinary. Ivy. Who’d made it clear she’d put up with children only if they arrived on a school bus and left the same way, in ninety minutes or less.

He didn’t want to date anyone else. Hadn’t wanted to date at all after his divorce, until he met her. But he had to make it clear—to himself and to her—that what little they had wasn’t working anymore.

“No.” Seth took off his cap and tossed it at his desk, rolled his shoulders and headed for the door. “I got this.”

* * *

IVY SWEPT THE rubber currycomb over the stallion’s gleaming coat, over and over, each circular stroke carrying her closer to calm. She still had a long way to go, though, because she hadn’t quite managed to convince herself that Seth Walker didn’t deserve a good, swift kick in his stupendous ass.

She knew he hadn’t been playing hard to get. But it ticked her off that he’d simply up and walked out on the game. The jerk.

What ticked her off even more? The burning sensation behind her eyes. She blinked, cleared her throat and focused on the one male in her life she knew would never let her down.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing, does he, Cabana Boy?”

The dark bay’s coat rippled and he scolded her with a snort. She was brushing too hard. Ivy lifted the comb away.

“Sorry about that.” She moved to the corner where she’d stashed the plastic grooming tote and exchanged the currycomb for a soft-bristled body brush. She hesitated and stared down at the fresh straw covering the floor. Her shoulders ached from mucking out stalls—she’d gotten a little too carried away with the pitchfork. And she still had to close up the milking shed, pay bills and record the production numbers before she could call it a day. A tuna sandwich would have to do for dinner. She didn’t have the energy to manage anything more exciting.

Crap, did she even have mayonnaise?

She leaned forward until her forehead rested against the iron grill forming the upper half of the stall. The slim bars provided better lighting and ventilation than a solid floor-to-ceiling wall and saved Ivy—and her horses—from claustrophobia. She closed her eyes and breathed in the rich, sunshiny scent of dried straw and the mint toothpaste she used every time she washed her hands to get rid of the smell of manure.

She pictured Seth with Olivia, and regret knotted her stomach. Maybe he’d understand if she explained why she couldn’t have children in her life. And maybe he’d hate her forever.

It wasn’t worth the risk. Seth was right. He and his kids deserved a woman who’d put them first.

Would he really stop playing deliveryman, though?

She opened her eyes, pushed away from the wall and turned back to Cabana Boy and his soothing beauty. He was brown, and his points—mane, tail and lower legs—were black, but Ivy’s favorite feature was the bright white star on his forehead, a star that looked more like a backward comma. Her parents had brought the stallion home as a sort of consolation prize for leaving Ivy behind while they cruised the Mediterranean. One month later, they were both dead.

That had been eight years ago.

Cabana Boy nudged her shoulder. “I should have brought an apple,” she murmured. Her stomach grumbled, and she huffed a laugh. “For each of us.”

A scuffing sound behind her had her swinging around while her heart bounced against her breastbone. Wade leaned over the stall door, and Ivy struggled to keep the disappointment out of her face. How pathetic, that she’d think for even a second that Seth might have changed his mind.

“Hey there,” she said. “Heading out?” It was late, but he’d made it into work only a couple of hours ago.

He nodded, gaze locked on the stallion. “I fixed that one pulsator. Just needed to adjust the pressure. We’re back to ten milkers again.”

“Bless you,” she said, and got the first inkling of trouble when his lips thinned under his gray-flecked mustache. She patted Cabana Boy’s flank and turned toward her farm manager. “Everything okay with Becky?”

He shrugged, still not looking at Ivy. “Her brush with death has got her to thinking. What she wants to do with her life and such.”

“Brush with death?” Ivy gaped. “Wade, she backed into a Dumpster at the dollar store. She broke her collarbone after slipping on a half-eaten egg-salad sandwich when she got out to check the damage.”

“There are people who can take something like that in stride. Others feel the need for the kind of understanding only a family can provide.”

He stuck out his lower lip, signaling his disappointment in her reaction. Ivy sighed. Such a fine damned line between being judgmental and showing righteous scorn. Apparently she’d crossed the line. Again. Then Wade’s words registered. Oh, God.

“You’re moving back to Montana?”

“Soon as we can get packed.”

An icy dread coated Ivy’s stomach. “Does that mean you’re not giving any notice?”

“Like I said, she needs her family.” He sucked his lower lip back in and raised conflicted eyes. “I’m sorry, Ivy. I really am.”

Shock held her immobile, and her heart felt heavy in her chest. Becky had obviously put her foot down, and Wade had never been able to tell his young bride no. Somehow, she willed a smile to her lips. “I’ll miss you,” she said thickly. “You’ve been a top-notch manager and a good friend.”

How the hell am I going to replace you?

He shuffled inside the stall and held out a thick, scarred hand, but Ivy ignored it and drew him into a hug. He stiffened, then squeezed her hard, and squeezed even tighter when she made to step back. Once he finally released her, he was blinking rapidly. He turned his head and took his time plucking a piece of hay free of his shoulder.

Ivy concentrated on giving Cabana Boy’s head a good solid scrub. “Do you need a reference? I’d be happy to write one up and email it to you.”

Wade moved to the other side of the stallion and started stroking the bay’s ears. “I appreciate the offer, but I won’t need it. We’ll be helping out at her folks’ ranch.”

“Cattle?”

“Dude.”

She almost laughed aloud at the disgust in his expression.

He met her gaze, his pale blue eyes brimming with doubt. “Sure wish I didn’t have to leave you in the lurch like this.”

Me, too. “Don’t give it another thought. Everything will work out. It always does. Of course Becky should come first. Give her my best, okay? Anyway, lately you’ve been mooning over Montana like I’ve been mooning over that robotic milker that feeds the cows and mucks out the barn at the same time.”

Wade’s mustache stretched as he grinned. “I am looking forward to getting back out on the prairie. And you can’t beat the fly-fishing.”

“There you go. Now come on into the house. You can make sure I’m caught up on everything, and I’ll print out your check.”

An hour later, after sending Wade off with another heartfelt hug and a severance check too small for her liking but too big to be prudent, she left the house in search of her two farmhands, who were no doubt fretting about the extra work they’d have to take on now that Wade was leaving. Normally, they’d have left hours ago, but Wade had asked them to stick around until he’d talked with Ivy. She bet they’d loved that—not—but there was always plenty to keep them busy, and she’d put a little extra something in their paychecks to help make up for it. She’d just have to squeeze a little extra milk out of the girls this month.

Padding paychecks might even win her some points when it came time to ask the guys if they’d be willing to take on Wade’s duties until she could hire a new manager. She didn’t even want to think about how long that could take. She glanced at the clock and closed the lid on her laptop. If Gary and Dell hadn’t left yet, she might as well get this conversation over with. Though it promised to be more of a beg-fest than a dialogue.

She grabbed a sweatshirt, stepped out onto the porch and stood for a moment, getting her bearings. Shadows crowded the outbuildings and rolled across the yard. In the distance, the band of navy that was the lake swallowed the remainder of the sun. Only the faintest curve of glimmering orange lit the sky. A barn owl bid daylight a high-pitched, rasping goodbye.

Okay, then. No wonder she was hungry.

Ivy glanced at the gravel lot beside the dairy barn. Two pickup trucks. Gary and Dell were still here. She jogged down the steps and was heading for the barn when a figure ambled out of the milking shed. Gary. If his thin, six-foot frame hadn’t given him away, the pale yellow sheen of the outdoor lights reflecting off his hairless head would have.

When he spotted her, he changed course. She met him halfway across the yard, her boots squelching over grass already slick with dew.

“Gary. I was just about to come and check in with you and Dell. Can you give me two minutes before you leave? Is Dell closing up?” If Dell secured the barns, that was one less thing she’d have to worry about before grabbing that tuna sandwich. Yay. She took a step toward the milking shed.

Gary moved in front of her. “You going to promote one of us to manager?”

Oh. Ouch. She hid a wince. “Why don’t we find Dell so we can all talk about this together?”

“That means no.” His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed. He spread his legs and planted his hands on his hips, making it clear he wasn’t going to move until he had his answer.

Fine. She’d do this twice. “That means no,” she agreed. “You and Dell are each a valuable part of the farm, but neither of you has the business experience I need in a manager.”

“You’ll have a hard time finding a replacement for Wade.”

“Yes, I will.”

“Dell and I have worked here a long time. We deserve a shot at that job.”

“I couldn’t run the farm without you or Dell. And I appreciate your loyalty, Gary. But I don’t have time to provide on-the-job training. I need someone who already knows how to manage a dairy farm.”

He dropped his arms and took a step backward. “And in the meantime, Dell and me’ll have to pick up the slack. Screw that.”

Ivy held out a hand. “Wait. What does that mean?”

“Means I’m outta here.”

This couldn’t be happening. “You’re quitting?”

“Goddamn right.”

“Gary.” The knot of frustration in her chest tightened, gathering into a dense, aching mass of dismay. “Please stay. We’ll all have to pitch in more, but it’ll be temporary. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Yeah?” Like a cardboard villain in a cheesy Western, he paraded his gaze up and down her body while tracing a slow hand over his chin. “What did you have in mind?”


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_3a0eeb13-9394-51b4-b4d9-4a2e5589fff0)

“NOTHING CLOSE TO what you have in mind,” Ivy responded drily. Revulsion warred with disappointment. Why had it taken her so long to recognize that Gary was a sexist asshole? “Forget I said anything. You can pick up your last check tomorrow.”

Wade, she realized. He’d been her buffer, and she’d taken him for granted.

Why were epiphanies always so costly?

She watched Gary stalk toward his truck. It was too dark to make out his expression as he looked back over his shoulder, but she could guess it carried an ugly promise of payback. Just what she needed. Would he try to talk Dell into leaving, too? God. Two men out of her life in a matter of minutes. Three if you counted Seth, who would no doubt cut her off completely any day now. She was on a roll.

Her stomach gurgled again. Roll reminded her of cinnamon. And the steaming pile of cow crap that was her day explained why cinnamon reminded her of the unopened bottle of schnapps she’d stashed in the cabinet over the kitchen sink.

She wheeled around and marched up the porch steps, chin held so high she tripped on the last one. She stumbled forward and fell into the screen door, one arm outstretched in a vain attempt to catch herself. The mesh fabric parted from the aluminum frame with a growling zzzzzzzzip.

Oh, for Pete’s sake. She pushed herself upright and scowled down at the ruined door. This wasn’t something she could fix herself. And now Wade wasn’t around to take care of it. She’d have to call someone.

Or maybe she’d just quit screen doors, cold turkey.

Of course, cold turkey made her think of Wild Turkey, and the thought of bourbon reminded her she had a date with a bottle of schnapps.

Thankfully, she could open it all by herself.

Ten minutes later, Ivy decided that drinking alone, especially from a bottle covered in five Christmases’ worth of dust, was as pathetic as it was dissatisfying.

She needed something else to distract her. A reflexive glance at the calendar yielded the perfect solution. How could she have forgotten her monthly investment club meeting? Her fellow members of Dollars and Divas would provide the perfect diversion.

And chances were good the booze would be dust-free.

* * *

HALF AN HOUR LATER, after a hasty tuna sandwich and a conversation with Dell that saved her a return trip to the liquor cabinet, Ivy parked in the gravel lot belonging to Castle Creek Growers, a local greenhouse run by her friend Parker and Parker’s husband of less than six months, Reid Macfarland. At least, Reid would have been helping to run it if he weren’t serving his third and final tour of duty in Afghanistan. Ivy couldn’t imagine how difficult the separation must be, not only for the couple but for Parker’s daughter, Nat, who adored Reid. It hadn’t always been that way, for Nat or her mother. Reid had sought Parker out to apologize for his role in the friendly fire that had taken her husband’s life. Parker and Reid had ended up falling in love, and now Parker couldn’t wait to have her new husband home for good. She’d moved to Castle Creek a year and a half ago, and it had taken her a while to warm up to Ivy—to anyone, really—but Ivy had finally talked her into joining the local investment club, and Parker was now one of Ivy’s closest friends.

Ivy hopped out of her truck and breathed in the heady scent of damp mulch and those ruffly red blooms Parker had once told her were camellias. The early-evening gloom was thickening, and an autumn chill edged the air. Ivy made her way along the concrete path that crossed the yard, connecting the empty gravel lot to a driveway crowded with cars. Seemed she was the last to arrive.

Not that she should have been there at all. What she should have been doing was writing up a help-wanted ad, making phone calls and working up some kind of a schedule from hell for her and Dell. She’d simply have to squeeze that in sometime in the morning, between chores.

Hesitating in the warm yellow glow of the porch light, she let the muted laughter and chatter and the pumpkin-pie smell of Parker’s signature muffins soothe her.

Oh, yeah. She needed this.

She was reaching for the door when it swung open. Parker had exchanged her usual denim overalls for black pants and a sapphire-blue cowl-neck sweater. She smiled and pushed at the screen door.

“About time you got here, Farmer Jane,” the redhead teased, waving Ivy into the comforting chaos of a Dollars and Divas meeting. Ten women of varying ages and backgrounds formed the group, but they all had one crucial thing in common—they liked each other. A lot. They also liked wine, desserts, romance novels and laughing.

And talking about men.

Ivy felt better already.

Inevitably, the conversation turned to sex, which did not make her feel better, because it had been so long since she’d had any. But hoo, boy, had she learned a lot over the years.

Especially from the Catlett sisters.

When Ivy stepped into the cottage-style living room and began her hellos, it was the seventysomething Catletts she spoke with first. Hazel and June liked their makeup bright, their gossip salacious and their man candy shirtless. Hazel’s white hair was pixie short, and tonight’s shade of lipstick looked like a blueberry had got it on with a box of Christmas tinsel. June wore her silver hair in a similar style and tonight rocked a yellow sweater dress Ivy couldn’t have carried off half as well. Ditto on the turquoise eye shadow.

“Audrey has a boyfriend,” June said as she guided Ivy over to the dining room table, where Parker had set out a selection of wine and soft drinks. June was referring to Audrey Tweedy, the Catletts’ close friend and coconspirator. Audrey was a woman who believed staunchly in the power of protein. Her father had opened the feed store Seth now owned, and Seth had won himself instant popularity with most of Castle Creek’s old-timers—especially Audrey—by keeping the name Tweedy’s Feed and Seed.

Ivy helped herself to a glass of wine and took a hefty sip. She’d promised herself, no thoughts of Seth Walker tonight.

Yeah. As if she’d really manage that.

“Hazel’s furious. She thinks it’s her own main squeeze, Pete Lowry,” June said in Ivy’s ear. Her “whisper” bounced off every flat surface in the room and quieted all other conversation.

“The guy who owns the garage?” Allison Kincaid moved closer and clinked her glass against Ivy’s in greeting. Despite having been in Castle Creek the shortest of any of the women present, the petite blonde was Ivy’s closest friend. She was also co-owner of the town’s only motel, Sleep at Joe’s. Allison gazed down at Hazel, who was tucked into the corner of Parker’s pale-blue-and-cream-striped couch. “You and Pete have a thing?”

Hazel offered up a wink that failed miserably at being playful. “He really knows how to twist my gas cap, if you know what I mean.”

Allison wagged her head. “No, I don’t, and I’d consider it a personal favor if you didn’t tell me.”

Ivy joined Allison in frowning down at Hazel. “You don’t really think Audrey’s messing around with Pete, do you?”

“She’s had that Lincoln of hers in his shop five times in the past month. Five times.”

From the connected dining room came a snort. Parker looked up from the tray of hors d’oeuvres she was arranging in the center of the large oval table.

“Hazel Catlett. You do realize that car of hers is older than I am? Things are bound to give out.”

Hazel rolled her eyes as she emptied the wine bottle into her glass. “Parker Macfarland, you’re twenty years younger than me. You can’t even begin to know what you’re talking about.”

“Twenty years younger?” June scoffed. “More like forty. Better ease up on the wine, sis.”

A door banged open and shut out in the hall and twenty-four-year-old Liz Early appeared in the archway in black jeans, boots and a purple turtleneck, her curly blond hair gathered up in a thick ponytail that reached halfway down her back.

“What are we talking about?” she asked brightly.

“Getting old,” Hazel said.

“Oh.” Liz dropped into the chair opposite the couch, crossed her legs and pulled out her phone. “Should we call someone who actually knows what that’s like?”

Everyone laughed, and Ivy stretched forward from her position by the couch to offer Liz a knuckle bump.

Parker pushed a hand into the air, as if she were summoning a waiter, then pointed at Liz. “Someone give this girl a drink.”

While June and Allison converged on Liz’s chair, June with an empty glass and Allison with a wine bottle, Ivy sank down onto the couch beside Hazel.

“Have you asked Audrey if she’s seeing Pete? I think you should, Hazel. You two have been friends since...well, since forever. She wouldn’t do something like that to you.”

“And how do you know that?”

“You wouldn’t do it to her, would you?”

“I wouldn’t do it again.”

Ivy stared. Hazel shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

June pivoted to face them and flapped a hand. “Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t really believe that, about Audrey and Pete. Besides, we all know Audrey has the hots for Snoozy.”

“We do?” Allison whipped around so fast she almost fell sideways. That was what she got for wearing those ridiculous designer heels. Which Ivy totally coveted and would have said so if she weren’t preoccupied trying to imagine the skinny, mournful-looking owner of Snoozy’s Bar paired up with the brawny Audrey Tweedy.

Allison gaped at Hazel. “Are you sure Audrey’s crushing on Snoozy? I didn’t think she was all that impressed with him or his snake.”

Laughter erupted. Allison flushed when she realized what she’d said.

“It’s true—Audrey’s very impatient when it comes to Snoozy’s snake.” Liz leaned around Allison and looked earnestly at Ivy. “I was in the diner when she tried to convince him to let her eat it.”

A moment’s shocked silence, then the shrieking began. Ivy fell back onto the couch, hooting, and Hazel pounded the armrest and almost choked, she was laughing so hard. June dropped onto the arm of Liz’s chair, giggling wildly and shaking her head, while Allison rocked back and forth and scrubbed at the tears dripping down her cheeks. Parker stood by the dining room table, both hands clapped to her mouth.

Liz’s expression alternated between embarrassment and indignation. She started to say something a couple of times but no one could hear her over the laughter. Finally, Allison took pity on her and signaled for everyone to quiet down.

“Okay, okay, let’s give Liz a break. We all know we’re talking about Snoozy’s python, which I had the misfortune of finding wedged behind the wall of my motel room.” She shuddered. “I’m still hearing things behind the walls.”

Ivy pushed off the couch and patted Allison’s shoulder. “On the plus side, you reunited a long-lost pet with her grieving owner. And now you have Joe to handle your pest control for you.”

“Yes,” Allison murmured. “Now I have Joe.” The way she said it and the sappy smile on her face made Ivy more envious than any pair of Jimmy Choo shoes could. But a happy-ever-after wasn’t in Ivy’s future, and she was fine with that. Though she wouldn’t mind a happy-for-now with Seth. Especially if that happy could occur in bed, and even more especially if they could agree on terms. Like, say, for every one of his orgasms, she got two?

He was good for it. She just knew he was good for it, damn him.

“Okay, ladies.” Parker pointed over her shoulder at the dining room table. “Refreshments are served. How about we help ourselves, then get down to business? I found a technology stock I want to tell you all about.”

Liz started to snicker as Ivy poured a glass of iced tea. “Speaking of business, I saw someone’s been at your sign again, Ivy.”

She made a face. “I know, right? But they did a good job with it. These days, funny farm is an apt description.”

“Oh, come on.” Allison settled her glass next in line for tea. “You’ve got that place running like a well-oiled machine.”

Liquid sloshed onto the lace tablecloth and Ivy hissed. She set the pitcher aside and snatched up a stack of napkins. “Dammit. Parker, I’m sorry—”

“Relax. Accidents happen. Be right back.” Parker rushed off to the kitchen.

Allison came around the table to help mop up. “You’re not yourself tonight. Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Ivy lifted her head. Everyone was listening, expressions full of shared concern.

She sighed. “My manager quit this afternoon. Less than an hour after that, one of my farmhands walked out when I told him he wasn’t qualified to step into the position.”

Her news was greeted with a chorus of sympathetic noises. Hazel leaned over and put a hand on her arm. “Sorry to hear that, hon.”

Allison looked thoughtful as she dabbed at the tablecloth. “So you’ll need someone to help out part-time while you’re looking for replacements.”

Ivy smirked at her designer-clad friend. “Why? You interested?”

“Dear God in heaven, no. Learning to milk a cow is not on my bucket list.” Allison grinned. “See what I did there?” When no one else seemed impressed, she went back to dabbing. “How about Seth?”

Ivy set her glass down before it slipped through her fingers. “In the first place, he has two kids to look after and his own business to run. In the second...” She hesitated. Allison bumped her shoulder.

“C’mon, girl, spill it.”

Parker chuckled as she came back into the room with a handful of dishrags. “She already did.”

Liz tittered.

Ivy exhaled. “Seth and I... We’re not on the best of terms.”

Hazel pursed her blueberry lips. “When are you going to stop rejecting that gorgeous man?”

“As of today,” Ivy muttered.

Allison clapped her hands. “You’re finally going for it? For crying out loud, woman, what are you doing here?”

Ivy was shaking her head, her braid heavy between her shoulder blades. “I won’t be rejecting him, because after today he won’t be asking me out anymore.”

“What did you do?” wailed Hazel.

Allison shrugged her slim shoulders. “All that means is you have to ask him.”

“Ladies, I’m not interested in dating. Period.”

“But this is Seth. What’s the big deal about dating Seth?” June fluffed her silver hair. “Go on a few dates, do the nasty, decide if you’re in it to win it.”

It took a moment for Ivy to find her voice again. “The big deal is, he may very well realize that dating me is no deal at all. That I’m one big anticlimax, so to speak. What if he’s so disappointed he decides he never wants to see me again?”

Parker turned and lobbed the dishrags at the nearest countertop, added a mini quiche to her plate and passed the platter. “Maybe I’m just being slow, but hasn’t that already happened?”

“He didn’t say he never wanted to see her again. He told her he was cutting back on seeing her.” Liz paused, then made a face at Parker. “Dude. You’re right.” She turned a sympathetic smile on Ivy. “What are you going to do?”

“The only thing I can do.” Ivy sank into the nearest chair and pushed at her plate. “Cut my losses and start saving for a wedding present for him and Ms. DMV.”

Allison put a hand on her hip. “Is this about Evan?”

Liz frowned. “Who’s Evan?”

“You remember.” June nibbled at a cube of cheddar. “The guy Ivy was going to marry.”

“That jerk.” Liz finished off her plate with a ham biscuit and settled across from Ivy.

“Wait. I never knew you were engaged,” Parker said.

Allison poured her own tea and pulled out the chair beside Ivy. “Two years ago, and she hasn’t dated anyone since. And no—” she aimed a pointed glance at her neighbor “—casual sex isn’t dating.”

At the head of the table, Hazel grinned. “It’s one hell of a runner-up, though.”

“And of course this is about Evan.” Allison flapped her napkin and dropped it into her lap. “A guy says he loves you and can’t get a ring on your finger fast enough and all the while, he’s scheming to sell your farm to a real estate developer? That’s bound to leave a scar.”

June sprang to her feet and brushed crumbs from her sweater dress. “How about we look at Seth as an investment? Run the numbers. Do a risk analysis. What do you think, dear heart?”

“I think we have better things to do.” Ivy turned resolutely to Parker. “Tell us about that stock you mentioned.”

Parker grinned. “I’d rather do a stock study on Seth.”

“Thank you.” June cast a stern expression on Ivy. “You going to make us take a vote?”

“Fine. Whatever.” Ivy yanked her plate closer and wrenched a red grape free of its cluster. “But I’m telling you, this is a losing proposition.”

“We won’t know that until we’ve filled out the checklist.” June bent down to the shoulder bag she’d stashed under the table and pulled out a clipboard. She put on her reading glasses, picked up a pen and got down to business. “Historical earnings?”

Ivy snorted. Allison flicked Ivy’s biceps and June peered at her over the top of her glasses.

Ivy sighed. “He’s only been running the feed store for a year.”

“Insufficient data.” June scribbled on the form.

Ivy shifted in her chair. “But he is the owner.”

“Which means it’ll be easy to find out what management’s up to. Debt ratio?”

“Really? You think I know that?”

“What I want to know is—” Hazel looked up from polishing her bifocals “—what’s his growth potential?”

Liz elbowed her in the ribs. “I’m betting eight inches.”

Amid the whoops and high fives, Ivy dropped her head into her hands. Please, God, just take me now.

“How about his current yield?” someone asked.

“Ivy’s the one with the high yield.” That was Allison. “If she had her way, she’d be yielding all over the place.”

“That’s enough.” Ivy planted her palms on the table and pushed to her feet. “Thank you all for the advice. It may have been unsolicited, but it was definitely valueless. Now can we please start the meeting?”

June grinned. “I see what you did there.”

“Ivy’s right—it’s time to get down to business.” Parker opened her laptop. “Let’s start with—”

“Wait, I have one, I have one.” Liz was practically bouncing in her seat as she leaned toward Ivy. “Bite low and say hi.”

Ivy couldn’t help but laugh, Liz looked so delighted with herself.

“What does that even mean?” Hazel squinted across the table. “You want her to bite his crankshaft? I wouldn’t think that would go over so well.”

June was nodding sagely. “And do you really think that once she bites him, he’ll stick around long enough for her to say hi?”

“Oh, please, give the girl a break. It was funny.” Allison grinned. “Besides, every guy likes a little nibble now and then.”

“Don’t we all,” sighed Hazel. Immediately, Allison and Parker took Hazel to task for finding fault with Liz’s contribution in the first place. While they bickered, Ivy decided to ask Liz about her love life. It was way past time to put someone else on the spot.

She leaned across the table. “How’s everything between you and Marcus?”

“Good. It’s good.” Liz hesitated, and her shoulders collapsed. “No, that’s not true. We’ve been dating since April and I don’t know him much better than I did when we met. I mean, I know he has...issues to work through, and he’s told me some stuff, but we’ve—” her cheeks flushed and she lowered her voice “—we’ve hardly been physical at all, let alone had sex.”

Ivy wondered how much Liz knew about Marcus’s situation. Allison had come to Castle Creek to shame her ex-boyfriend Joe Gallahan into helping her save her job at an advertising firm back in Washington, DC. Joe had agreed but only if she’d help with the motel’s renovations. It hadn’t taken long for them to fall in love all over again—despite serious challenges involving a python, an ex-con out for vengeance and a fire that almost destroyed the motel.

That ex-con had been Marcus Watts. Allison had stumbled upon him after he’d broken into her room at the motel. The twenty-year-old had been living in the woods, waiting for the opportunity to burn down Sleep at Joe’s because of the horrific abuse he’d suffered while his stepfather owned the place.

Allison hadn’t confided every detail, but Ivy knew enough to be both sickened and enraged on Marcus’s behalf and to realize it could be a long time before he was ready for any kind of intimacy, emotional or physical.

She glanced around and saw that everyone else was still engaged in a good-natured argument. “Have you talked to him about it?”

Liz nodded miserably. “He gets so defensive. He’s seeing a counselor, but I have a feeling a big part of the problem is that he doesn’t think he’s good enough for me.”

“I’m sure you’re doing your best to convince him otherwise.”

“Yeah, but now I’m thinking I need to follow the same advice everyone is giving you. You know. Totally take the initiative.” Her smile was both tentative and sly. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

Ivy was saved from responding when Parker stood and tapped a knife against her wineglass. “Someone needs to call this meeting to order. Otherwise you’ll all be spending the night and anyone still here in the morning will have to earn her breakfast by helping out in the greenhouses.”

“Oh.” June raised her hand. “Speaking of greenhouses, I noticed the floodlights on the hut closest to the parking lot aren’t working.”

“Those dumb things.” Parker scowled. “There must be some kind of electrical problem, because Harris just changed those bulbs.”

“I’ll get Joe to take a look at them for you.” Allison bit her lip. “And if there’s anything else along those lines you’d like done, you might want to let him know now. He has another project coming up that’s going to keep him extrabusy.”

“Hmph.” Hazel popped a strawberry into her mouth and gazed at Allison, brown eyes twinkling. “And here he just put the finishing touches on that brand-new love nest above the motel office. What’s next, a sauna? A swimming pool?”

“A baby.” Allison aimed a sheepish glance at Ivy and pressed her palms to her stomach. “We’re going to have a baby.”

* * *

A SCALDING RUSH of acid taunted the back of Marcus’s throat as he gazed at the other employees gathered in the diner’s kitchen. This was some bad shit going down, and everybody was looking at him.

One of the waitresses, Rachel, stood beside him, lower lip quivering, and he almost reached for her hand. She had that whole everything-has-to-be-a-drama teen thing going on, but in this case she wasn’t exaggerating.

“It’ll be okay,” Marcus murmured, but how could he expect her to believe that when he didn’t believe it himself?

Rachel ignored him, and continued to stare at the diner’s owner. “You’re saying one of us is a thief.”

“I’m saying there’s money missing.” Cal ran a palm over his gray buzz cut and Marcus shifted his weight. Poor Cal looked closer to tears than Rachel.

“If it were just one instance,” Cal continued, “I’d chalk it up to a mistake. We all make ’em. But several times over the past month, the drawer’s been short.” His sober gaze traveled from face to face. No one spoke. Someone swallowed, loudly. It was Thursday night, and business was slow. As soon as their one customer had been served his maple-glazed salmon, Cal had gathered the entire evening shift in the kitchen.

Marcus, the cook. Rachel and Patricia, waitresses. And Noah, who manned the grill during the early shift but had dropped in to pick up his paycheck. All but Noah wore the diner’s uniform of black polo shirts and khakis. They took turns staring at the reddish-brown tiled floor, the empty grill that still smelled of fish and fried onions, and the stainless steel shelves lined with neat rows of plates, glasses, napkins and condiment bottles with the labels turned out.

They looked everywhere but at Cal.

“We have to figure this out and put a stop to it,” he said. “I’ll have to sell a truckload of cinnamon rolls to make up for the revenue I’ve lost.”

“I think just this past week I’ve eaten a truckload of cinnamon rolls.” Patricia patted her ample stomach, trying to lighten the moment. But Cal wasn’t smiling.

“Think about it, folks. Smaller profits mean smaller raises and fewer employee benefits.”

“Are you having this same talk with everyone?” Marcus asked quietly. There were three more waitresses on the books, plus a busboy on weekends. “Or just us?”

Cal gave him a look Marcus couldn’t interpret. “Everyone needs to hear this. The problem is happening at the cash register, but I won’t tolerate theft of any kind. I don’t care if it’s a can of tomato sauce. You have a money problem, you come to me. We’re family. We’re supposed to be here for each other.” He cleared his throat, but not before everyone heard the break in his voice. “I hate that we’re even having this conversation.”

Noah, a spongy-looking redhead with a sparse goatee, crossed his arms and squinted. “You said this started a month ago?” When Cal offered up a curt nod, Noah’s gaze slid to Marcus. “Isn’t that about the same time he started working the register?”

Marcus didn’t flinch. He’d been waiting for this. He met Cal’s gaze squarely, and after a moment his heart bobbed back up to the surface. How long would Cal be able to hang on to the respect Marcus was seeing in his eyes?

“Yes,” Cal said simply. “But I trust Marcus as much as I trust each of you. Which is what makes this so hard.” He went on to tell them he was available at any hour of the day, for anyone who wanted to talk. Then he went into his office and shut the door.

“Why don’t you stay away from the register?” Eyeing Marcus, Noah folded the envelope containing his paycheck and slid it into his back pocket. “That way, if money goes missing again, we’ll know you’re not the thief.”

“And if it doesn’t go missing, everyone will think he is.” Patricia pursed her lips. “Nice try, Noah.”

He let loose a smirk. “Maybe no one’s stealing at all. Maybe someone’s getting confused and making too much change. Maybe Cal shouldn’t let anyone over fifty near the register.”

Patricia’s lined face went gray.

Rachel fisted her bony hands. “Shut up. Just shut up. How old do you think Cal is, you moron? Anyway, you’re the one who can’t inventory five boxes of steaks without using a calculator.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Marcus growled. When everyone went quiet, he struggled to hide his surprise. He pushed away from the counter he’d been leaning against and angled his chin toward the office. “Cal’s right. We’re family. Instead of turning on each other, we should be helping each other out. I don’t believe any of us is stealing, so let’s work together and figure out what is going on.”

“Who put you in charge?” Noah demanded. “You turn twenty-one and suddenly you think you’re calling the shots?”

“Excuse me?” A hesitant voice reached them from the front of the diner. “Could I get a refill on my tea?”

“Be right there, baby doll,” Patricia called. She scowled at Noah and bustled out of the kitchen.

Rachel’s thin shoulders bounced. “So what if he’s only twenty-one? You’re only twenty-three.”

“And you’re, like, twelve, so get out of my face.”

“There a problem here?” They all turned to see Cal standing in the doorway to his office. No one answered. With abrupt motions, Cal finished tying the strings of his black apron. “Marcus, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus pulled his own apron over his head. He usually cooked in the evenings, but Cal had given him the rest of the night off. He’d worked a double over the weekend when Noah had called in sick, and Cal had insisted.

Which meant Cal would be cooking for what was left of the shift.

The diner’s owner turned to his other cook. “You have your check. How about you let Rachel get back to work?”

With a nod, Noah scurried toward the back door. Rachel made a clumsy gesture toward the front, then spun and hurried to join Patricia.

Cal studied Marcus. “Usually when you have a date with Liz, you’re out of here so fast all anyone can see is a blur. Everything okay?” When Marcus hesitated, Cal held up a hand. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked. But in case your lady needs softening up, I put aside a little something for you in the walk-in.”

Marcus shook his boss’s hand. “I appreciate that.” Though a few cinnamon rolls wouldn’t even start to make up for the hurt he was about to inflict.

* * *

TEN MINUTES LATER, Marcus parked in front of Snoozy’s Bar, where Liz waited tables. He eased the wheezing pickup in between two SUVs and let the engine idle. His palms were slick on the steering wheel, and his throat felt as though he’d spent an entire week breathing in flour.

She’d called him late last night. She’d said she needed to know more about him and asked that their date tonight include an exchange of secrets. He’d balked at first, but she’d been insistent.

Her voice had been soft, sleepy, coaxing. He’d pictured her curled up on her couch in flannel pajamas, sipping a cup of that chai tea she liked. How could he say no?

After their conversation, he’d barely slept. He’d struggled with what to say to her, with how much to reveal. By sunrise he’d known what he had to do. He’d keep his end of the bargain, and then he’d say goodbye.

The passenger door opened and he jumped.

Liz peered in, her face wary. “You look like you’re about to make a quick getaway. Do you want me in or out?”

“In,” he said, though that was the trouble. She’d already worked her way into his heart, and lately she’d been running a strong campaign to work her way into his bed. He could almost picture them building a life together.

Not going to happen, dude. She had no idea what she’d be getting into.

Sweat seemed to shoot out of his palms and he scrubbed his hands on his jeans. He glanced at Liz as she settled in her seat and did a double take as he noticed the heels on her sandals. They had to be as high as his hand was wide.

“You didn’t tell me what to wear,” she said, in half accusation, half challenge.

“Would it have mattered?”

She rounded on him and he tensed, but she didn’t fire back. Instead she wore a delighted smile. “You have been paying attention.” She made a satisfied sound, flopped back against the seat and started to hum as he backed out of the parking lot.

A funny, unfamiliar feeling settled between his ribs. She was right. He had been paying attention, since the day they’d met here at the bar after Joe Gallahan had cornered him in his motel. Marcus had been a homeless stalker with more attitude than sense, but Joe had ended up treating him to lunch. One look at the crinkly-haired blonde with big blue eyes taking their order and Marcus had wanted to stay in Castle Creek forever.

“How are things with Joe?” she asked, as if she’d read his mind.

“Better.” Joe had lost it there for a while, letting guilt drive him to the whiskey bottle, but he’d managed to turn things around. It helped that he’d fixed things with Allison.

C’mon, Marcus. Don’t go getting wistful.

“Have you talked to him lately?” Liz tried for an offhand tone and failed miserably.

Marcus shot her a look. “I take it Allison shared their news at your meeting last night?”

“Yes!” Liz bounced around in her seat, her grin wider than Lake Erie. “A baby! Isn’t that exciting?”

He dragged in a breath. So that was what this was all about. Her friend was pregnant and now Liz was feeling domestic.

Shit.

“Well, I think it’s exciting,” she said. Her hand rested on his biceps, heating his skin through the sleeve of his shirt. “Where are we going?”

He blinked back a round of baby-ass tears and offered up a muttered “You’ll see.”

Twenty minutes later, he parked at an unused entrance to a golf course, divided from the lake by a strip of woods that, thanks to erosion, was a lot skinnier than Marcus remembered. Dusk was on its way. The autumn evening had taken on a grayish tinge, which meant the woods would be murky. He got out of the truck, grabbed a flashlight from behind the seat and tipped his head toward the lake. “Want to give it a go?”

“Is there a path?” She cast a doubtful glance at her heels. “Maybe I should take these off.”

“There used to be a trail covered in pine needles. If it’s overgrown, we’ll turn back.”

“Used to be? When was this?”

“When I was a boy.” After she slipped out of her shoes, he hesitated and shook his head. “Wait. This is a bad idea. Your feet will get cold. How about we go grab a hamburger and I’ll show you another time?”

“No way. We had a bargain. You’d show me yours and I’d show you mine.” The naughty in her voice and the alluring curve of her lips thickened the breath in his lungs.

“I don’t think our bargain included an X-rated show-and-tell,” he said lightly.

Her smile sagged. She opened her door and hopped out. “When we’re done here? You owe me that hamburger.”

Wincing at the disenchantment in her tone, he joined her where she stood on the faded pavement in front of the truck. Her head was cocked. He heard it, too. The constant heavy rumble of a waterfall. His pulse kicked into an awkward sprint.

“Show me,” she said.

He didn’t have to use the flashlight. Not yet. He guided her along a path that led to the stream feeding the falls. The rich smell of damp earth rose up around them, and the rumbling grew into a thunderous rush as the woods opened up. He captured her hand, and together they stepped out onto a bluff that rose a good thirty feet above Lake Erie.

“I’d come to this spot whenever I could,” he murmured. “The foaming fury of the waterfall next to the calmness of the lake—it fascinated me. Called to me, too.” He looked over at her, admiring her pale features, flushed peach by the disappearing sun. “More than once I came close to jumping.”

Her whole body shook—briefly, violently. She released his hand and swiped at the shocked tears that sprang into her eyes.

“All I wanted was to feel normal,” he said, pushing the words over the hot swell of emotion in his throat. “You can’t feel normal when everyone looks at you like you’re a freak.”

“You’re not a freak. Your stepfather? The other men who molested you? They’re the freaks.” She swiped again at her cheeks, wiped her palms on her jeans and took a deep breath. “And anyway, if it’s normal you want to feel, I can help with that.”

A split second later, she was on him, her hands sliding around to the back of his neck, her breasts getting cozy with his chest.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_f4ccae6b-f167-5bf9-939b-f5b543658a1d)

EVEN AS HIS body yelled, Hell, yeah, his brain shouted, Bad effin’ idea. Marcus backed away but Liz followed. When a tree blocked his escape, she pushed even closer. He slid sideways, dropping the flashlight and grabbing on to her waist for balance. Her shirt had ridden up and the feel of her soft bare skin made him dizzy.

He froze. She froze. They stood chest to chest, zipper to zipper, and he could hardly hear the waterfall over the breaths ripping out of his throat.

She whispered his name and her mouth sought his. Before their lips could connect, he turned his head and reached for her hands. “I didn’t bring you here for this.”

“Maybe I came for this.”

“You’re sorry for me. I get it.”

“I’m not sorry for you, Marcus. I hurt for you. I want to...to...”

“Ease my pain?”

“Show I care.”

“This isn’t happening.”

“Tonight? Or ever?”

He nudged her away from him, intent on finding the flashlight so they could get out of there. He hadn’t handled this well. He hadn’t handled this well at all. She pressed close again and nuzzled his throat.

“Please, Marcus,” she murmured. “I’ll make it good for you.”

His lungs seized. He shoved her away, harder this time, so hard she stumbled and fell. His hands—hell, his entire body—shook. He collapsed back against the tree and struggled for air.

Don’t fight it, Marcus. You know you want it, Marcus. Hold still and I’ll make it good for you...

“What’s wrong?” Liz was crying, gasping as she got to her feet. She peered through her hair at him, eyes wide as she swatted at the debris that clung to her jeans. “What did I do?”

“Those words. I don’t want them in my head. Especially when I’m with you.”

“I’m sorry, I... How could I know? I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he gritted. “It’s not your fault.”

She wiped her face on her sleeve and crossed her arms. “It feels like it’s my fault.”

He found the flashlight and scooped it up. The dark was falling fast. He reached for her, thought better of it and faced her instead, hands awkward at his sides. “Liz, I’m not ready for this. I thought you understood.”

“I wanted to show you how much I care. How much you mean to me.”

“If you cared, you wouldn’t try to manipulate me.”

“Manipulate you?” She kicked at the freshly fallen gold-and-russet leaves. “I want to please you.”

“Why? What do you want with me? I’m damaged goods. You have no idea how damaged. I have a minimum-wage job, I live on the second floor of an old lady’s house and I drive a truck that’s older than I am.”

“I know all that. None of it changes how I feel about you. I like you, Marcus. A lot.”

“Here’s something you don’t know. I’m an ex-con.”

Her head came up at that. “You were in prison? What happened?” When he didn’t answer, she frowned. “Am I supposed to guess?”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“Tell me you’re a serial killer and I’ll worry. At the same time I’ll wonder why you’re already out of jail.”

His turn to frown. “I didn’t kill anyone. It was a fight. I started it. Pulled eighteen months for aggravated assault.”

“Why did you start it?”

“I was angry.”

“Because?”

“Point is, I’m an ex-con. You need to stay away from me.”

She snorted, then laughed when she saw his outrage. “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re trying to scare me off because you’re scared yourself.” She moved closer and tugged at his shirtsleeve. “Tell me what started the fight.”

He hesitated, then leaned against the tree again. She stayed where she was, and he breathed a little easier. “I worked in a kitchen. At a restaurant. The owner had a thing for one of the busboys.”

“The owner was a man.”

“Not a man. A monster. One day he cornered the kid in the storage room and tried to make him—” Marcus fisted and unfisted both hands. “So I beat the shit out of him.”

“Was the kid okay?”

“Yeah. He was okay.”

“Did the monster go to jail?”

Marcus grunted. “Got out before I did.”

“When did you get out?”

“A few months before I came back to Castle Creek.”

“You came back to burn down the motel.”

“And Cal recognized me. You know the rest.”

“Do I?”

He didn’t know what she meant.

Her spine sagged, as if he’d failed some kind of test. “How are things with Cal?”

Marcus shrugged. “He’s still the same man who fed me whenever I ran away from the motel and ended up at the diner. He’s the one who called the cops, the one responsible for getting my stepfather arrested.” Too late to do much good, but at least the man had tried.

He stared through the gloom at the woman who was naive enough to think she could free him from his past. “Why are you still here?” he growled. “Why haven’t you run screaming for the truck?”

“One, I’m not wearing shoes. Two, you have the flashlight.”

He thrust the flashlight at her. She took it but didn’t move. He paced away, paced back, picked up a stick and started breaking pieces off and tossing them to the ground. Snap. Plop. Snap. Plop. Still she didn’t speak.

“How can you want me?” he said finally, hating the need behind his words. “After what I’ve done?”

“It’s true I don’t know what you’ve been through,” she said softly, her voice strangled. “But I do know it was bad. I also know it’s not so much what you’ve done but what’s been done to you. You’re a survivor. I respect that. I’m awed by that.”

She clicked the flashlight on, then back off. “The first time I saw you,” she whispered, “it was like I—I recognized you. Not your face but who you are. Inside.” She turned the flashlight back on. The white-yellow glow illuminated her perfect features. “I can be patient, Marcus. I admit I’m feeling less than sexy, but I can wait. You’re worth it. You’re so worth it.”

He had no idea what to say to that. To any of it. He couldn’t have talked anyway, since it felt as if that same big-ass tree he’d leaned against was lodged in his throat. As if to demonstrate that she meant what she said, she remained silent, waiting, as he tried to speak.

“Liz,” he said finally, his voice guttural. “You deserve better. I think it’s time we both moved on.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her response to be, but a dismissive sniff wasn’t it.

“Why?” she demanded, one hand on her hip. “Because you’ve been in jail?”

He nodded, and she exhaled loudly.

“Whew,” she said. “That’s okay, then.” Her grin outshone the flashlight’s beam. “We’re perfect for each other...because I’ve been in jail, too.”

* * *

IVY’S EARBUDS SERENADED her with the latest from Nickelback, which helped mask the mechanized roar of the Bobcat. Up and down the aisle between the bedding stalls she drove the loader, pushing manure, sand and wastewater toward the opening in the floor at the back of the barn. The opening led to a storage chamber underneath, where a horizontal auger pressed the manure into a pit. Thus Ivy had year-round access to her own fertilizer supply. She sold some of it, too—Parker used it for her greenhouses.

One more run down the center and she could start rinsing away the remaining manure with the pressure washer. Yeah, it was a dirty job. A twice-a-day one, too, because 110 Jerseys produced a lot of poo. Not as much as Holsteins, oddly enough, which was one reason Ivy was letting her Holstein population fade out. Sixty percent less poo to push.

Wade had teased that she enjoyed this part of the job way too much, but it made her feel good, spiffing up the place for the girls. She’d switched from organic bedding to sand for that reason—it was cleaner for the cows. Not that the barn stayed clean for long. Jersey girls knew how to party.

She steered the Bobcat out of the barn and into the sunlight, planning to park it near the milking shed, which was next up for a cleaning. She and Dell had already mixed the feed, fed and milked the cows and the calves, and washed the milkers after settling a cow into a separate pen when she’d come up lame. Ivy planned to check her out as soon as she finished with the Bobcat—hopefully, the poor animal had nothing more than a stone lodged in her hoof, which would easily be fixed with a hoof pick and a foot bath. But with Ivy’s luck, the prognosis wouldn’t be so straightforward. Already this morning she’d discovered she’d forgotten to order supplements and a truckload of sand. It had also slipped her mind that she’d agreed to board a friend’s horse for two weeks, and she didn’t have a stall prepared yet.

More mucking. Yay.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Castle Creek’s librarian waving at her from the driveway. In fact, the big man was waving at her so hard he was creating a breeze. Ivy turned off the engine and jumped to the ground, glanced down at the sorry state of her boots and jeans, and shrugged.

No one should expect a dairy farmer to look fresh or smell sweet.

“Noble Johnson.” When Ivy reached the paved drive, she peeled off her right glove and held out her hand. “What’s my favorite python wrangler up to these days?”

Noble grinned, and despite the day she was having, Ivy found herself grinning back. With his massive frame and shoulder-length hair, the same white-blond as hers, he did not resemble the stereotypical librarian. Or book minder, as he liked to call himself.

The sound of an engine signaled someone else coming up the drive. Noble and Ivy both watched as Allison’s gray Camry came into view. Allison parked beside Noble’s pickup and Ivy bit her lip.

She had an apology to make.

“My snake-herding days seem to be behind me,” Noble said, and turned back to Ivy. “Joe hasn’t called to report any more exotic critters hiding out in his walls.” Allison walked up and he flashed her a smile. “But I do hear your motel menagerie will soon be expanding by one.” He pulled Allison close in a one-armed hug. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Noble.”

When Allison turned to Ivy, the latter spread her arms, revealing all her sweaty, dirt-streaked glory. “I’d hug you, but...”

Allison laughed and held up her hands. “Thanks. I’ll pass.”

“Decided on names yet?” Noble rubbed his chin. “I can give you a few suggestions.”

“Let me guess.” Allison winked at Ivy. “For a boy, Perry.”

“That’s right.” Noble’s face beamed with pleased surprise. “Can’t do a boy a better honor than naming him after ol’ Oliver Hazard.”

“You told me all about the Battle of Lake Erie, remember?”

Noble nodded and narrowed his eyes. “Now, for a girl...” He tapped a finger against his chin and ignored the mock trepidation on Allison’s face.

“How about naming her after Mary Boone?” he finally suggested. “She was born in Erie and was a huge influence in the New York art market in the ’80s.”

“Mary or Perry,” Allison mused, and patted his brawny shoulder. “Not bad. Tasteful, even. I was expecting something along the lines of Cornelia or Epenetus.”

“I have taste.” Noble sniffed, running a palm down his lime-green velour tie.

Ivy eyed his pristine khakis and burgundy button-down shirt, which provided an interesting backdrop for his tie. “You are looking spiffy today.”

“If you’re impressed now, you should stop by the library tomorrow. Check me out in my suit and tie.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Ivy asked.

He frowned. “The new-member reception for my book club, remember? That’s what the cheesecake is for.”

Ivy clamped both hands on her head as a prickly heat surged up her throat and into her cheeks. “The cheesecake. Oh, Noble. I forgot all about it.” His crestfallen expression made her feel worse.

“That’s okay,” he said slowly. “I’m sure I can pick something up from the diner. Unless...”

She ignored the panic roiling in her belly and concentrated instead on the fresh hope in his eyes. “Yes. Absolutely. I’ll make it tonight and drop it off before the reception tomorrow.”

By the time Noble finished pumping her hand in gratitude, her shoulder ached. After he left, she turned to Allison as she rubbed the sore spot.

“I owe you an apology. I should have called you yesterday to follow up after the meeting. I really am happy for you and Joe.”

Allison reached out and squeezed her elbow. “I know you are. But I’m the one who should apologize. I should have told you first, in private. Instead the words were coming out of my mouth and I couldn’t take them back and I knew I’d done a hateful thing. Please forgive me.”

“You were excited. Of course you were excited—having a baby is a big deal. You were surrounded by your friends and you wanted to share your news. There’s no need to apologize for that.” When Allison quirked an eyebrow, Ivy let loose a sigh. “Okay, fine. Yes, I was hurt you hadn’t told me first. Now that we’ve both said we’re sorry, can we call it even?”

“Ivy. I was there. I saw your face. There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

Ivy’s arms and legs felt suddenly heavy and she shivered.

Allison gave her arm a final squeeze and stepped back. “If you ever want to talk about it,” she said softly, “I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Ivy muttered, and cringed when she barely recognized her own voice. She cleared her throat. “You do realize I’m going to throw you one hell of a shower?”

“I’m counting on it.”

“I never did ask about Joe. How’s he handling all this?”

Allison’s smile was a beautiful thing to behold. “He can’t wait. He’s already changed his mind three times about the paint for the nursery. The good news is, he gets to do the painting.” She poked Ivy in the shoulder. “Now. About those cheesecakes. Want help making them?”

“Them?”

“If I’m going to help, I should get something out of it, don’t you think?”

A rush of gratitude warmed Ivy’s chest. “That would be fabulous, thanks.”

“Ivy.” Allison winced. “I also wanted to apologize for bringing up Evan last night. I know he’s a sore subject, and then we ended up having to explain to Parker who he was, and...well, I hope I didn’t sound like I was trivializing what happened.”

Ivy shook her head. “You were right. He’s a big part of the reason I’ll never be anything more than casual with a guy. It’s not worth the heartache of finding out your boyfriend’s a scheming asshat who only wants you because you can help boost his bottom line.”

“You know most guys are not like that.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Well.” Allison shrugged, and her expression turned teasingly superior. “One day you will. So I’ll see you around what? Seven?”

Ivy hoped like hell she’d have her chores done by then. “Tuna sandwiches okay?”

Allison considered. “Got pickles?”

“Bread and butter, baby.”

“Then you’re on.”

Ivy watched Allison’s car until it disappeared around a bend in the driveway. Once it did, she let her body sag and closed her eyes.

She’d have to do a better job hiding her feelings. It wasn’t fair to Allison, Joe or anyone else. Ivy was the one with the problem. Her friends shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around her because of it.

The equipment shed on the other side of the free-stall barn suddenly belched out a loud growling sound. Dell, checking out the tractor. Time to get back to work. Slowly, she turned back to the Bobcat and couldn’t help wondering how she’d manage to get it all done. Once she finished pushing manure, she had to check on her injured cow, conduct an inventory, call in an order and make an appointment with the nutritionist, who regularly adjusted the mix she fed her stock. Then the feeding and milking would begin all over again. And somewhere in there, she had to find time to buy groceries.

As much as she loved the farm, she couldn’t help wondering, every now and then, if she should have just sold it eight years earlier, after the cruise ship her parents were traveling on sank off the coast of Santorini. Seemed Ivy was still trying to prove she was capable of more than her mom and dad had ever given her credit for.

And still trying to make up for the mistakes she’d made.

She dragged in a breath and hesitated. More noisy rumbling, this time coming from behind her. Ivy turned and blinked. That was a school bus lumbering up the driveway.

Oh, God.

Apparently she had a tour today.

Her heart thudded dully, and it suddenly hurt to breathe. Two days without Wade and already she was falling apart. She’d thought she could manage. Why couldn’t she manage?

She had to manage.

She rolled her shoulders up and back, shifted a grimace into a smile, and headed for the bus full of laughing, chattering children.

* * *

THE NEXT DAY, Ivy hit her sleep-deprived stride. With a carefully crafted regimen of coffee, chocolate and the occasional ten-minute catnap, she figured she could handle being two men down, at least until she collected some serious prospects for Wade’s job. So far her only applicant was the manager of a fast-food restaurant in Erie, who’d worn dress shoes and a silk tie to the interview. He’d had all kinds of nifty ideas for upgrading her recordkeeping, but the instant he set foot in the dairy barn, the dry heaves had started. He hadn’t realized the position would be so hands-on, he’d explained.

“Feet-in,” she figured he’d meant. But what did he expect from a building full of digesting Jerseys?

She was hunched over her laptop in her office, updating her animal healthcare records and trying not to visualize Seth with Olivia Duncan, when the doorbell rang. Woot! Dinner had arrived. No way could she face another tuna sandwich, no matter how much fun she and Allison had had the night before.

Ivy hurried to the door, her socks pulling her into a slide the last few feet. She tugged Liz Early inside and gave her a one-armed hug, careful not to bump the bag of goodies her friend carried.

“Oh, my God, that smells divine.” She led Liz into the kitchen and patted the table. While Liz set the plastic bag down and struggled to untie the handles, Ivy produced a pair of scissors and snipped the knot right off. One by one she pulled out the warm containers, so excited by the freedom of not having to drag something together for dinner that she gave Liz another hug.

“You’re a sweetie for delivering,” she said. “Especially on a Saturday. I owe you one. Dell does, too. I made him two grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch today and I thought he was going to break into tears.”

No response. Ivy looked up to find Liz staring, hand over her mouth.

“Jeez, Ivy,” Liz breathed. “What happened to your eye?”

Ivy winced. “I’ve been avoiding the mirror. How’s it look?”

“Painful. Did you put anything on it?”

“A bag of frozen Brussels sprouts.”

Liz’s expression graduated from dismayed to horrified. “Brussels sprouts? You don’t actually eat those, do you?”

“A couple of years ago, when June Catlett was on her underappreciated-foods kick, I promised her I’d give them a try, but I’ve never been able to work up the courage.”

“I remember that. She came into Snoozy’s hoping we’d add cardoons to the menu.”

“What the heck are cardoons?”

“They’re like artichokes, only you eat the stalks. Snoozy never had any on hand, but there they were, on the menu. Luckily, no one ever ordered them.” She leaned in for a closer look at Ivy’s eye. “How’d you do it?”

“I tripped in the milking shed. Ended up with a face full of wall.”

Liz hissed in a sympathetic breath. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“Oh, I have plans for this eye. If Dell calls in sick tomorrow because he can’t face another grilled cheese, I’ll moan and groan and lay it on thick. I’ll describe in vivid detail the purples and greens. If that doesn’t work, I’ll tell him we’re having Snoozy’s chili for lunch. He’ll be here before I hang up the phone. Thanks again for the special delivery.”

Liz offered a smile that didn’t carry her usual glow. Ivy wanted to kick herself. Even with one good eye, she should have noticed it sooner.

“Snoozy recruited someone to cover for me while I’m gone, so it’s no problem,” Liz said. “He was thrilled to get your order. He pretty much emptied the pot. I haven’t seen him grin so big since Mitzi came home.”

“How’s that working out, by the way? Having her enclosure right there in the bar?” Ivy fished her checkbook out of her purse.

“Freaked me out at first. But I’m used to it now. It’s not like she moves around much, and as long as I don’t have to watch her eat, I’m good. Besides, ever since Snoozy put that sign out front advertising his python petting zoo, business has definitely picked up. More customers means more tips, so I’m stoked.”

Uh-huh. Ivy kept one eye on Liz as she ripped the check free. “You don’t look stoked.”

Liz accepted the check and flushed. “That’s quite a tip.”

“You did me quite a favor. Saved me a lot of time and heartache.” She tapped the nearest carton. “It’s the heartburn that’s really going to cost. But it’ll be so worth it.”

Liz tucked the check into her jacket pocket. “Do you have a few minutes? I was hoping we could talk. I know you’re busy...”

“Never too busy for you.” Ivy gave herself a mental pat on the back for sounding as if she meant it. She pushed the cartons aside, pulled out a chair for Liz and plopped down onto its twin. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Wine?” Oh, damn. She didn’t have any wine.

Liz shook her head and shrugged out of her jacket. Ivy shoved the cartons a little farther away. Did they have to smell so damned good? She glanced around the kitchen, desperate for a distraction from the spicy siren call of the chili. The forlorn look on Liz’s face did the trick.

“What’s going on?” Ivy asked gently.

“It didn’t work.”

“What didn’t work?”

Liz bit her lip. “Marcus. Me. Sex.”

Ivy grimaced. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Liz stumbled through a laugh. “No need to look so horrified. I didn’t suddenly find out he’s gay or into BDSM. He didn’t fail to perform or anything. We never got that far. He blew up at me for pressuring him, then said he thought it was time for us both to move on.”

“Oh, no. Oh, Liz.” And oh, dear Lord, did that sound familiar. Ivy ignored the hollow feeling in her chest. This isn’t about you. She cleared her throat. “Did Marcus give you any reason at all for the breakup? Besides feeling pressured, I mean?”

“He told me why, but it was totally not a valid reason, and I tried to argue, but...” Liz shrugged. “When he drove me home, he didn’t say anything except to tell me to take care of myself.” Her face collapsed, and she drew in a shuddering breath. “I screwed up. I wanted to show him how much I love him, and instead I ended up chasing him away. I couldn’t even get him to kiss me.”

Ivy leaned forward. “You can fix this. Just tell him you understand. Tell him if he needs more time, he can have it.”

“I did say all that. He didn’t go for it. Even if he had, how much more time do I give him? Months? Years? If I don’t pressure him at all, then where’s his motivation to sleep with me?”

Ivy didn’t know how to answer that one. “I guess what you need to decide is how long you’re willing to wait.”

“I’m not sure that’s even an option anymore.” Liz hung her head, and her curly blond hair tumbled to cover her face. When she looked back up, her eyes had dulled. She rubbed a palm against her chest. “Ivy, he said goodbye like...like there wouldn’t be another hello.”

Ivy straightened, feeling as useless as a fork in a soup bowl. “I’m so sorry.” She’d driven Seth away like Liz had driven Marcus away. What advice could she possibly give? “Have you considered talking to Allison? She knows Marcus better than any of us.”

“I thought about it, but if he ever found out, he’d be humiliated. I couldn’t do that to him.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. Drew in a deep breath. “That’s really something, isn’t it? I mean that Allison’s going to be a mom.”

Ivy braced herself for the familiar little clutch of pain. Yep, there it was. Hello, old friend.

“I want that,” Liz said softly. “I want with Marcus what Allison has with Joe.”

An image of Seth taunted Ivy, and her ready words of encouragement faded. All she could manage was a nod.

Resignation chased the daydreams from Liz’s face. “I need to get back to work. I’m sorry to bother you with all of this.” She got to her feet and pushed the chair under the table. “Thank you again for the generous tip.”

They hugged, Ivy’s own desperation echoed in the rigor of Liz’s fingers on her back. Minutes later, she waved from her porch as the little blue car disappeared down the driveway.

Some tip.

Sorry, I can’t help you. Find someone else to talk to.

With a sigh, she shuffled back into the kitchen, grabbed two of the containers and turned to put them in the fridge.

So much for her appetite.

* * *

SETH SLAPPED HIS cards facedown on the table and sagged back against his chair. “Fold.”

“Judas Priest, Walker.” Joe shot him a disgusted look. “That’s got to be the tenth time tonight. You don’t get your act together, we’re going to boot you out of the club.”

“We can’t boot him out.” Noble brandished the remains of a sub thicker than his wrist. “He’s the only one of us who knows how to make a decent sandwich.”

Gil Cooper, owner of Cooper’s Hardware and Seth’s off-road-biking buddy, lifted his bottle of beer. “Plus he’s just now learning that a good brew isn’t supposed to look like lemonade and smell like three fat guys trapped in a two-man tent.”

“And he has a daughter who bakes.” Former marine Harris Briggs was a chewing-gum addict, an infamous grump and the part-time manager of Castle Creek Growers. He waved a chocolate chip cookie in the air. “Forget quarters. We should play for these little gems.”

Joe snatched the cookie out of the air, took a bite and shook his head at Seth. “You know what your trouble is?”

“Yeah. I’m not getting enough sleep.”

“Neither am I, but it’s not because I’m too stubborn to take what’s on offer.” Joe dodged a balled-up napkin. “I’m just sayin’. She wants you, too.”

“Who’re we talking about?” Gil didn’t realize his cards were angled for the whole table to see. There was a reason his stack of chips was shorter than everyone else’s.

Seth hesitated, then muttered, “Ivy Millbrook.”

“That’s my kind of trouble,” Gil said, and smirked when Seth glared.

“You’re going to have trouble of your own if you don’t keep your cotton-pickin’ hands to yourself,” Harris growled at Joe, who was hogging the plate of cookies.

“Now, boys, play nice.” Gil stretched across the table, knocking over three towers of poker chips and an empty beer bottle in the process. The bottle clattered off the edge and hit the linoleum with a hollow clunk. Undeterred, Gil scooped a handful of cookies off the Hello Kitty platter. He tossed a couple at Noble and sat back down. Everyone else exhaled and straightened up out of the human shields they’d formed around their own bottles and stacks.

“What about Olivia Duncan?” Noble asked through a mouthful of cookie. “She’s cute. I saw you two in Mama Leoni’s parking lot last night. How’d that work out?”

Seth scowled. “It didn’t.”

“Because it’s not Olivia keeping Seth up at night.” Joe tucked in his chin and peeked at his cards. “Now, are we going to finish this game or not?”

“He’s got something good,” Noble said, disgusted, and threw down his cards. Ignoring Joe’s bark of protest, he squinted at Seth.

“What’s up with you and Ivy? You two like each other, so why’ve you spent the past year ducking and weaving? Hit the canvas, already.”

Seth squeezed the back of his neck. “That guy she was engaged to a few years back.” He looked at Joe. “What was his name?”

“Evan.”

“Evan. Right. Apparently the bastard did a number on her, because she’s convinced commitment’s a four-letter word.”

“She’s gun-shy.” Noble nodded sagely. “I get that.” When Joe snorted, Noble spread his hands. “What? Haven’t you ever wondered why this prime piece of bachelor booty is still on the market?”

Joe checked out the big man’s bright yellow Read Books, Not T-shirts tee, which he wore with a paint-stained pair of black leather motorcycle pants and emerald green high-tops. “No.”

“I’ve been wonderin’,” Harris spoke up. When everyone stared, he flushed. “On behalf of the ladies, that is.”

“I’m no stranger to heartbreak.” Noble patted his solar plexus. “It takes a brave human being to risk that kind of pain again.”

Gil screwed up his eyes. “It takes a brave human being to risk looking directly into your outfit.” He shook his head at Seth. “I don’t get it. Sounds like Ivy wants no-strings sex. With you. What’s the problem? I’d be all over that.”

“Would you?” Seth asked softly.

Gil blanched. “The opportunity. I’d be all over the opportunity, not the lady in question.” He grabbed his beer and cocked his head. “I take it back. I’d be thrilled to hit that and you should be, too.”

Seth started around the table toward him and Gil popped to his feet. It took him two strides to get tangled up in a chair. He fell on his ass and Joe shook his head.

“You’d have to talk to her first,” Joe said. “During and after wouldn’t hurt, either. Sure you’re up for that?”

Gil offered up a silly grin as Joe helped him to his feet. “I can talk to a girl. Just ask the one I’m dating.”

“Virtual chicks don’t count,” Noble yelled.

“Neither do the ones who ask for money,” Joe added.

“Screw all of you.” Gil squinted at Seth. “You’re seriously not putting out till there’s a ring on your finger?”

“It’s not about the ring, assholes.” Seth dropped back into his chair. “It’s about commitment. I don’t want my kids to see a parade of women coming in and out of my house.”

“So don’t bring ’em home.” Harris had given up on the cookies. He fished a pack of spearmint gum from the pocket of his plaid shirt. Cellophane crinkled. “That’s what motels are for.”

“Not my motel,” Joe growled.

“Parade of women, huh?” Gil rolled his eyes. “Don’t you need a permit for an ego that size?”

Seth ignored him. “Bottom line is, I have to set an example for my kids.”

“Good for you, man.” Joe nodded solemnly. “They’ll erect a statue in your honor.”

“A special-order one.” Noble leaned forward. “With blue balls.”

Seth gave him a dirty look while Joe hooted and Gil offered Noble a sloppy high five.

“Speaking of rings—” Joe leaned back in his chair “—I’m thinking about getting one.”

Noble scratched his chin. “For your nose or your—” he raised his eyebrows at Joe’s lap “—love muscle?”

Joe blinked. “Love muscle? Seriously?”

Gil’s expression was dubious. “You going to pop the question?”

“Thinking about it,” Joe said. “Though I don’t know what I’ll do if she turns me down.”

An uneasy silence, broken by an occasional plastic chink as Gil busied himself restacking his chips. Abruptly, Joe straightened and turned to Harris.

“Harris, man, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

The older man waved him off. “Don’t go gettin’ your dress over your head,” he said gruffly. “Yeah, I turned Eugenia down, but I had good reason and she knows it. You get that ring. That young woman of yours won’t say no.”

Noble gave Joe an elbow to the ribs. “You planning on telling them what is going to happen, instead of getting us all worked up about what might happen?”

Seth stood and started gathering the empties. “I knew you were a little too happy about lending me your truck. What’s up, Gallahan?”

Joe leaned back and linked his hands behind his head. “It’s like this, guys.” There was no mistaking the giddy in his gaze, and Seth figured it out the instant before Joe spilled. “Allison’s pregnant.”

Shouts and backslaps followed, quickly turning into whispers and knuckle bumps when Seth warned his guests that if they woke up his kids, he’d be serving tea and cucumber sandwiches the next time he hosted poker night. Ever the librarian, Noble asked, “When you say cucumber, you talking English or Armenian?”

Joe reached for the last cookie. “Any advice for a father-to-be?” He cut his eyes at Noble. “I’m talking to those of us who have a kid, not those of us who act like one.”

Gil belched, long and loud. “That leaves us all out.”

“Hold on.” Noble folded his arms across his massive chest and watched Seth carefully set the empties in a recycling bin. “The kids are with your ex every other weekend, so why can’t you do your parading around then?”

“Because that’s not what I want,” Seth growled. He offered up a half smile and a shrug. “That’s not all I want. Besides, I won’t have her thinking I’m ashamed of her.”

With a snick, Gil popped the top of another brew. “But if she’s good with it—”

“I’m not. End of story. Now how about we turn the conversation back to our baby daddy here?”

A sob sliced through their banter. “Dad!”

For an instant, Seth went rigid.

“Daddy!”

He sprang to his feet and sprinted to his daughter’s bedroom. His heart rammed his chest as his friends thundered after him. Grace’s door was open, her room dark. Why was it dark? He slapped the light on and blinked in the sudden glare.

Grace had shoved herself back against the headboard. She sat with her knees to her chest, her small fists holding the edge of the blanket to her chin. “Someone turned out the light.” Strands of brown hair clung to her damp cheeks, and mucus dripped from her nose.

Seth strode over and gathered her close. She sobbed and trembled against his chest as he rocked her.

“Bad dream?” Joe hovered inside the door while Noble and Gil peered over his shoulder.

Seth pointed to the outlet by the door. “Her ballerina night-light’s missing.” It had been there when he’d tucked her in. She’d never have let him leave the room otherwise.

Harris came in with a glass, water sloshing onto the carpet as he stepped around books and shoes and piles of clothing. Noble followed, head craning left and right as he searched the cluttered floor. “I don’t see it. Could Travis have taken it?”

Seth was wondering the same thing.

Right on cue, his son staggered into the room, rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Grace’s night-light.” Seth set the water aside and held out an arm. Travis shuffled over and Seth pulled him in close, loving the feel of his son’s sleep-warmed body. “Have you seen it?”

Travis shrugged, and Seth swallowed a frustrated oath. Dammit, he was tired of things disappearing. Which one of his kids was playing games? Grace wasn’t faking her fear. Had she removed the night-light, set it somewhere and then forgotten where she’d put it?

She’d stopped crying. Seth felt her jaw move against his heart as she yawned. “Hey.” He eased her away and kissed her on the forehead. “How about we leave the hall light on for tonight and get you a replacement night-light tomorrow? Will that work?”

She nodded sleepily. Seth leaned over and kissed Travis, as well. “Okay, Tiger. Back to bed.”

“I’ll take him.” Gil took Travis’s hand and steered the little boy toward the door. “Maybe on the way you could tell me where I can find myself a pair of those killer jammies. Is that the Hulk?”

“It’s Martian Manhunter,” Travis said in a voice dripping with disgust.

While Noble picked up a doll from the floor and positioned her in a nearby chair, Joe stepped out of the room to turn on the hall light. Seth settled his daughter back under the sheets and smoothed her hair from her face.

“What if I have another bad dream?” she mumbled, eyes already closed.

“I’ll come running.”

“All of you?”

Seth grinned. “If you want.”

“I want.” She rolled over onto her side, rubbed her cheek against her pillow and fell asleep.

Two minutes later, the guys had resumed their seats around Seth’s kitchen table. Silence reigned until Gil dropped his hands to the table and exhaled loudly. “Who the hell is Martian Manhunter, anyway?”

“Member of the Justice League. Pals with Superman?” When Gil still looked lost, Noble made a tsk tsk sound. “What’d you read when you were a kid, Cooper? Trixie Belden?”

Seth glanced around the table. Someone had to say it. “Who’s Trixie Belden?”

Noble rolled his eyes. “Heathens.”

Harris’s cards lay abandoned beside him as he twisted his beer bottle in a halting circle. “Your daughter do that a lot?”

“Have bad dreams? Since the divorce, yeah. More often since these two geniuses—” Seth gestured with his beer at Joe and Noble “—found that damned python and couldn’t stop bragging about it.”

“Don’t go blaming me,” Noble protested. “Joe found her. All I did was help pull her out of the wall.”

Gil exaggerated a shudder. “It’s a wonder you two aren’t having nightmares.”

Joe waved a careless hand. “I haven’t woken up screaming in weeks. Anyway, it was Allison who found her.” He tapped a red chip against the table absently. “Parker said something once about Nat having nightmares. She said they read books together about kids conquering their fears and played flashlight tag so Nat wouldn’t be so scared of the dark.”

“Monster spray.” Harris cleared his throat and lifted his beefy shoulders in a self-conscious shrug. “When my daughter was little, we put a bottle of monster spray by her bed. Worked like a charm.”

“Judas Priest.” Joe rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I’m not ready for this.”

“You’ll be fine.” Seth lifted his beer. “To Joe. May he be a better father than he is a poker player.”

“Like that’ll be hard,” muttered Noble, and considered the crumbs on his plate. “Know what goes great with pale ale? Cheesecake.”

While Harris choked on his beer, Joe made a face. “Didn’t you get your fill at the library last night?”





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